Always trust an Elf
by annarien
Summary: Sequel to and direct continuation of "Never trust an Elf". Follow the company of Thorin Oakenshield throughout their adventures overhill, underhill and side by side with overbearing First Age Elves. AU story, part two of three.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here it is, part two of my AU story involving Dwarves, Fëanorians, a Slimaril and many other interesting things. Reading the following chapters will not make sense without reading "Never trust an Elf" first. **

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1.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield left Rivendell on a glorious midsummer morning. With them went the wizard Gandalf and one very unhappy Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

Fourteen glossy ponies had been packed for the journey and they stomped about in the courtyard, impatient to be gone. By the gate, eight tall Elves stood silently, wrapped in their grey cloaks. Three of them bore longbows on their backs and each had a traveling pack at his feet. Unlike Gandalf, they had no mounts prepared and they would go with the company on foot.

Lord Elrond and his household had come to bid their guests a fond farewell and give them their best wishes for the road ahead. They spoke with Gandalf and Thorin while Bilbo waited by his pony, his shoulders slumped and not merely due to the weight of his pack.

Bowing before the Lord of Imladris one last time, Thorin mounted his pony and signaled his company to set out. Bilbo steered his mount toward the ornate gates as they rode out in single file. Thorin at the fore and Gandalf immediately behind, they passed by Fëanor and his sons. Bilbo saw the Elves bid Lord Elrond a silent farewell, heads bowed and hands against their hearts. Then, they walked after the company, leaving behind the comforts of the Last Homely House.

For a short while, their road curved southward along the same path they had come almost a month before. It would branch eastward and out of the valley, taking the company high above the eastern branch of the Bruinen before turning north.

The Last Homely House lay far behind him when Bilbo turned his head for one last glimpse. It was a miniature of silver and gold and emerald and waterfalls once more, calling him back. Bilbo halted his pony and stared back at the enchanted valley with great longing.

Although they had to steer past the Hobbit with some difficulty, none of his companions gave him any grief about it.

"Don't worry, Bilbo, we'll be back here before you know it," Fili gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, sparing the Elven dwelling a wistful glance himself.

Bilbo nodded absently and paid no attention to the cloaked figures walking past him, not until the last of them stopped and Caranthir eyed him curiously.

"It's not a place anyone would want to leave, is it?" he said.

Bilbo blinked, trying to clear his head.

"What if...what if I don't want to leave? What if I just turn around now and head back? Would you allow it?" he asked the Elf.

"I would. But ask yourself, Bilbo Baggins, do you really want to do that?" Caranthir gave him a sharp and pointed look.

"No," Bilbo sighed, biting back the enormous 'yes' he truly felt like shouting from the top of his lungs.

"WHAT DID YOU FORGET THIS TIME, BILBO BAGGINS?!" Thorin boomed from around the bend in the path, the echo of his voice running trough the valley.

With a smirk, Caranthir took the reins from Bilbo's hands, pulling both pony and unwilling rider after him.

…

For four days the company traveled without incident along the ridge, their path leading north and slightly eastward. The jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains rose higher and closer each day, blocking the eastern horizon with everlasting snow. A brisk, chill wind swept down from the heights, reminding the company that they had stepped back into the time and the weather of the world.

It would have been a journey not unlike the one from Bree to Rivendell, with the Elves up ahead and in charge of camping business, if Thorin had not insisted that shared company meant shared chores. He refused to have the Elves wait on him hand and foot, but still, they were gone for most of the day, searching the lands for suitable resting spots and game. Fili and Kili often went with the youngest of Fëanor's sons and when they all settled for the night, Bilbo would often hear them talk and laugh together. Fëanor alone remained with the company and hardly left Thorin's side, the two of them and Gandalf often taking counsel together.

As much as he wanted to share the general anticipation and his friends' good cheer, Bilbo barely managed. It did not help him to be the subject of intense scrutiny from time to time and even accosted once with a sneering observation of "Mr. Baggins, you're not trying hard enough!" The occasional grumble aside, all the Dwarves seemed to have accepted the company of Elves and acknowledged their usefulness, gradually becoming accustomed to their sharp tongues and their bawdy humor. If Bilbo hadn't known better, he would have been the first to cheer.

The late afternoon of July the fifth found the company setting camp near a little stream that tumbled down into the Bruinen some miles away. Bilbo picked up a big kettle and headed toward the stream, meaning to fill it up for some tea. He saw Oin already there, crouched on the stony bank and rinsing their cooking gear.

A rustle in the bushes that lined the opposite bank drew the Hobbit's attention. His eyes widened when he saw the thorny undergrowth part before a huge animal that charged toward Oin. The Dwarf paid it no mind, occupied as he was and singing softly. Bilbo opened his mouth to shout, terrified by the lumbering beast and the huge tusks that protruded out of a frothing snout.

"WATCH OUT!" he yelled, but it was already too late. The wild boar had jumped into the water with a deep grunt and one more leap would bring it upon the unsuspecting Dwarf.

Oin looked up at the very last moment and raised the frying pan he still held in his left hand. It would have served him little, if he hadn't been crashed into and rolled out of the way. With a terrific shout, one of the Elves sprang before Oin, grabbing him and propelling the both of them into the bubbling stream. But it was a moment too late and the boar's snout crashed into the Elf's back, the sharp tusks digging in deep.

The Elf cried out and Bilbo recognized Maglor's voice. Rooted to the spot, he saw Maglor trying to twist himself free. The boar shook its head violently and would have bitten savagely into the Elf's back if an iron-capped boot had not caught it in the soft underside of its snout. The beast pulled back a fraction, enough to let Maglor roll away, still holding onto a confused and sputtering Oin. He lost his footing on the slippery bedrock and fell into the stream. But the Dwarf quickly caught onto their peril and righted himself, groping for a weapon. His hands would have to do and Bilbo gave another shout, when the boar charged them again.

The Hobbit threw down his kettle and picked up a rock. He threw it at the enraged beast, hitting its ugly head. He heard the crunch and saw how well he'd aimed, but the boar hesitated only for a second. With a hair-raising roar, it was upon Oin again, but the Dwarf sprang out of the way, where Maglor had landed but a moment before. The Elf was on his feet, hunting knife in hand and ready to jump the beast, but a loud twang stopped him. Then another and another, arrows flying from behind Bilbo and hitting the animal dead-on. It stumbled, pierced in the throat and twice between its ribs, the foam at its mouth turning red.

But the beast reared itself to charge all the same, shrieking horribly and plunging toward the closest target. Once more, Oin sprang out of the way, cursing violently for lack of a weapon and yelling at Maglor to stab it. Finally, the Elf did so and not a moment too soon. But the dying animal thrashed beneath him, trying to throw the attacker off.

Celegorm rushed past Bilbo, throwing down his bow and pulling out his knife. He ran toward his struggling brother and gave the wild boar a finishing blow, yanking the beast away from Maglor and bearing upon it with all his weight.

Maglor dropped to one knee in the shallow stream, his face and the front of his clothes soaked in blood. Behind him, wet and disgruntled, Oin stared at the dying beast. But his eyes soon turned to Maglor, widening at the sight of his wounds.

"You're hurt, lad," the Dwarf said, gingerly touching Maglor's shoulder.

Celegorm released the dead animal, Elvish knives and arrows embedded in its massive body. He went to his brother's side, face turning ashen when he saw the state of Maglor's back.

"Káno! Hold on," he grabbed a very pale and tottering Maglor, flinching when the other Elf coughed and blood bubbled from his lips. Celegorm shouted for help, calling after his father loud enough to be heard on the other side of the Misty Mountains.

…

"The animal was sick, father," Celegorm knelt by Fëanor's side, taking the bloodied washcloth from his hand and rinsing it in a pot of scalding water.

The entire company crowded around Maglor, who lay on his stomach, fast asleep on a combination of alcohol and milk-of-the-poppy. His kinsmen had stripped him of his sodden garments and laid him on a pile of blankets.

Bilbo flinched when he heard what Celegorm had said. Maglor's whole back was a bruised mess, two deep wounds still bleeding and if the boar had been sick, what worse fate awaited the Elf? He had at least one punctured lung and would have to be turned on his back soon, but his wounds needed cleaning and stitching first. Until then, Maedhros held his head in as comfortable a position for breathing as possible, petting his brother's damp hair soothingly.

"I hope you haven't been bitten, Master Oin," Celegorm said, perusing the old Dwarf who sat nearby, rummaging through his herb-pouch.

"No, not a scratch, lad."

"Good. The boar was rabid. It would not have charged our camp otherwise. We should burn the carcass quickly, before carrion birds spread the disease."

"But… what about him?" Oin gave Maglor a worried look. "He's been bitten badly."

"I don't think he's going to turn anymore rabid than he already is," Celegorm tried to joke, but no one around him laughed. "He'll be alright. Just needs to stop bleeding so we can have these stitched and the he'll be fine."

"Here, try this," Oin produced a small vial from his pouch and uncorked it. "Dab a little bit on the cloth and press it into the wounds. It's gonna hurt badly, but I hope he's under enough…"

Celegorm sniffed the contents of the vial and frowned. But the blood still trickling on from his brother's wounds decided for him. He cringed when Maglor's body grew taut and he let out a soft yelp, but the Dwarvish medicine seemed to help and after a little while, the bleeding ceased.

Bilbo saw a very pale Fëanor sticking his hands into the cauldron of hot water at his side, jaw clenched against the unbearable heat. He sucked in a deep breath and picked up a needle that Curufin had given him. But the thread would not go through on the first or the second attempt.

"Here, let me," Oin walked over to him and put a hand on the Elf's arm. "It's the least I can do for the lad. It'd be me down there if not for him… or worse."

Fëanor swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded slowly. He let the Dwarf take needle and thread from his hands, sitting back on his haunches and letting go of a ragged breath.

"Come on, you don't have to watch this. Let us give them some room to breathe," Thorin said. He motioned Fëanor to walk with him, drawing the unwilling Elf to the side and pushing a drink into his hands.

Bilbo did not wish to watch Oin at work either. Feeling quite faint, he busied himself with making some tea. More than one person would need it after they were done patching Maglor up and Bilbo wondered if he should not mix some of the Dwarves' strong liquor into the brew.

"I didn't know I've been reborn so squeamish," he heard Fëanor saying. "He'll be as good as new in a few days, our bodies are young and quick to heal, but… "he paused and let out a sigh. "Eru knows, I've patched them up and mended all seven of them more times than I care to remember…"

"But it never gets any easier," Thorin said. Bilbo saw him sit at the Elf's side, but his eyes were on his nephews and the tenderness in them put a soft smile on Bilbo's face.

"No, it never gets any easier," Fëanor nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "I'd be a piss-poor father if it did."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I feel I must say that (hopefully) this will stay a smut free, pairing free, romance free story. However, I can do nothing about the questionable humor of certain Elves when they are full of themselves and of unstoppable naughtiness.**

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2.

Sometime into the seventh day since they had left Rivendell, Bilbo witnessed a very disturbing conversation. Given how quiet and thoughtful the four Elves still with them had been, Bilbo did not expect banter and there had been none for a while. After the wild boar attack and the mending of Maglor's injuries, three of his brothers had remained with him, saying they would rejoin the company as soon as Maglor was sufficiently recovered. As such, the Dwarves only had Amras, Amrod, Celegorm and Fëanor with them.

Bilbo had noticed a slight limp in his pony's gait and stopped to check Myrtle's hoof. The others trickled by him and as he hurried to rejoin them, Bilbo heard Fili and Kili exchanging the most peculiar words with Fëanor 's sons.

"By the standards of my people, you're all pretty enough to be really, really ugly," Kili was saying.

"Pretty enough so that we wouldn't be caught dead with one of you," Fili chimed in.

Oddly enough, none of the Elves seemed to find any offense in that.

"Truthfully, by the standards of my people, anyone who caught us with one of you would be dead," Celegorm replied. "But, by my own standards, I'd try you once. If I were really, really drunk."

That seemed to give the Dwarves pause, while the twins snickered among themselves. Bilbo shook his head, thinking that surely, they weren't speaking of what he thought they were speaking of.

"Anyway, you're just the right size," Celegorm smirked, marking the distance from the ground to his mid-section with one hand.

"The right size for what?" Fili's eyebrows shot up. He leaned closer to his brother and whatever Kili whispered in his ear made Fili instantly turn scarlet. "WHAT?! How dare you?!" he sputtered at the blond.

"Take no offense, Fili," Amrod told him. "Our brother is a shameless philanderer who will make sport of anything on two legs that doesn't run away fast enough."

Celegorm seemed rather proud of his brother's assessment, giving the young Dwarves a suggestive look.

Kili's eyes widened comically and immediately, he kicked his pony into a shaky trot.

"Don't run away! That will only make it more interesting for him. He likes the chase even better than the catch!" Amras called after the Dwarf, grinning broadly.

The Elves laughed heartily as Kili quickly put some of his kinsmen between himself and 'danger'. Meanwhile, Bilbo's jaw had dropped and it continued to hang in complete disbelief.

"I don't see you running, my young friend," Celegorm turned to Fili, smirking as the Dwarf squirmed under his predatory gaze.

"I... er... I'll have you know I... I sleep with many knives on my person," Fili replied only half-joking.

"Ooh, do you hear that, brother? Unless you want to turn into a Dwarvish pin-cushion, you'd better keep your sword sheathed," one of the twins chortled.

"Pfft, bother that!" Celegorm huffed, tossing his hair back over his shoulder. "Your loss," he shrugged at Fili.

"Indeed..." Amrod poked his brother's shoulder affectionately. "He's special," the red-head rolled his eyes and twirled a finger near his temple. "But we love him anyway."

Celegorm grabbed his brother in a sudden choke-hold and ruffled his hair, ignoring Amrod's undignified squawk. Amras laughed at his twin's predicament and even Fili grinned at the very un-Elvish antics.

As for Bilbo, he decided that it hadn't been the strangest thing he'd ever witnessed. Still, he would do well to forget the exchange as soon as possible.

Later that day, however, Fili returned from collecting dry-wood for camp to find a small, heart-shaped bouquet of wild flowers tucked into his bedroll. The twins unceremoniously announced anyone who would listen that Celegorm was courting him. Celegorm, of course, denied having anything to do with the affair, but in the morning, he found blue ribbons tied to his longbow and arrows. Fili also noticed a portion of his blue cloak missing. Amrod and Amras had conveniently set out scouting before dawn.

By nightfall, the twins had returned and guided the company to a more sheltered area they had discovered. As the days wore on and the snow-capped peaks loomed closer, the wind had become colder and they kept close to each other at night, to save some warmth.

Bombur cooked a delicious stew for all of them and Bofur put some wine into the kettle, adding some spices to make the brew even more warming. Amrod and Amras should have known better than to take their drinks from Thorin's nephews. They shouldn't have believed that the wine tasted funny because of some mysterious Dwarvish spice. But a whole day out in the wild had made them tired and unwary.

It wasn't until Nori scrambled away from him that Amras realized something was amiss.

"What in Mahal's name happened to your mouth?" the Dwarf gaped at him.

"Hmm? What's wrong?" the Elf touched his lips in confusion.

"It's... black," Nori said. "Your tongue and... everything!"

Amras stuck his tongue out, going cross-eyed as he tried to see it and indeed, it was black.

"Oh, what in bloody blazes!" Dwalin growled at the sight of him.

"An orc in a red wig?" Bofur suggested. "No, lad, don't bristle at me. I had nothing to do with this," he raised his hands in a placating gesture before the frowning _orc-in-a-red-wig_.

"Pityo!" Amras shouted after his brother. "What the... Oh, Valar, your face!"

As it turned out, the Valar had nothing to do with the twins' blackened lips, tongues, teeth and everything, as Nori had so aptly put it. The cause was quite simple: some blackberries and half of Ori's ink bottle. Thorin caught the perpetrators some moments after as they were slinking away to... watch the ponies.

Not nearly as amused as the rest of the company, Thorin and Fëanor put their errant kinsmen on watch duty for the entire night. But if Fili and Kili thought a sleepless night would make the Elven brothers too tired to plot revenge, they were mistaken.

For the better part of the following day, the company moved under threat of rain. Some very ominous clouds rolled over the Misty Mountains on a brisk wind, but, by nightfall, they had descended over the low-lands, leaving behind a clear, starlit sky.

Assigned to cooking duties and doing a fair job of it, Fili and Kili eventually collapsed against a fallen tree-trunk. Kili rummaged through their packs and brought out their pipes. Fili brought embers from the fire to light them and they finally sat down, stretching tiredly. The brothers smoked contentedly while everyone else settled around them.

"Kili, give me the...," Fili squeaked and stopped talking, his eyes widening.

"Fili! Wha...?" his brother slapped a hand over his mouth, going bug-eyed at the high-pitched squeal his voice had turned into.

Somewhere behind them, very bad Elves burst into muffled snickering.

"Kili, what's going on?"

"I don't know, but you sound like a chipmunk!" Kili chirped, giggling at the sound of his own voice. The laughter itself was so high-pitched and hilarious that it roused the entire camp and brought it snickering around the young Dwarves.

Unable to resist, Fili burst into shrill laughter himself, touching his throat in disbelief at the sounds coming out of it. Amrod and Amras leaped over the log and crouched before their victims, clutching their sides and laughing uproariously. Their mouths still had a very unnatural color, making them look like proper imps.

"You did this!" Kili whined, glaring at the two Elves accusingly.

"Oh, gods… what is it this time?" Fëanor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting at this offspring. "What did you two hatch this time, hmm?" his lips twitched and he too grinned widely.

"What did you do to us?" Fili squeaked, red-faced and eying his uncle helplessly. The other Dwarves were chortling and sniggering, egging them on to speak (or squeak, as it were), but Thorin eyed the scene with a thunderous expression.

"Bless you, lads! You sound like someone up and kicked you in your soft bits," Gloin said, prompting Dwalin to laugh harder and pat Kili on the shoulder none-too-gently.

"We didn't!"

"We're poisoned!"

"The Elves did something!"

"It's their fault!"

But the mousy protesting served only to send the company into fresh gales of laughter. If they hadn't been so indignant and squeaky, perhaps the brothers would have enjoyed the quality of the prank better.

"Don't worry, we didn't poison you. It's just a little very special dust in your pipes," Amras took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"What special dust?" Fili slapped a hand over his mouth, desperately wanting his voice back… or to somehow stay quiet until it returned.

"Oh, no! He's spoiled the pipe-weed!" Kili squealed in a panic.

"Eh, it was foul anyway!" the Elf said.

"NOOOOO!" Kili screeched so loudly that Dwalin had to cover his ear. Kili actually made to attack the evil Elf, but Amras held up his hands.

"Peace, little squirrel. Damn, but you are funny!"

"THIS IS WAAAR!" Kili screeched again, making Dwalin cuff him and sit him back down, laughing as he did so.

It was more than Thorin could take with a straight face. At last, he doubled over, clutching Balin's cloak and laughing heartily. For a few moments, the entire camp watched him in happy surprise. Most of them didn't even recall the last time they had heard Thorin Oakenshield laughing… and laughing his heart out at that.

"Aww, bless, look what you did!" Celegorm leaned over the two young Dwarves and ruffled their heads. He was rewarded with mousy threats and other high-pitched nonsense, amusing the Elf to no end.

Some time and some tea later, Fili and Kili were still coughing and not saying much, unless it was whispering among themselves. Their voices still wavered in the most hilarious of ways and Thorin had ordered them to shut up, if the others were to have any rest that night.

Wrapped tight in his bedroll and feeling more lighthearted than he had in over a fortnight, Bilbo heard Thorin grumbling to Fëanor as they shared first watch.

"After tonight, I think I understand why some animals eat their young," the Dwarf said.

"That's… harsh," the Elf chuckled quietly. "But very fitting."

"Are they… always like this? Your sons?"

"Of course not. I think perhaps they've been up to no good for the last few days to take their minds off Káno and other matters."

"If that is the case…."

"Still, I should bring them to some kind of order. I'm beginning to think it wasn't such a good idea to leave the brooding ones behind with Káno and keep these three fools with us."

"You… did that on purpose?"

"I might have."

"Ah, if only I had that kind of luxury. I've only two, not the best, nor the brightest, and I can't shake them off with a stick, much less try to lose them in the wild," Thorin sighed, sounding half annoyed and half amused. "How in Mahal's name do you manage seven of them?"

"Well… I figure, if I enjoyed making them so much, I might as well buck up and deal with the rest of it," Fëanor replied.

"But I didn't even enjoy _that_," Thorin muttered.

They both laughed quietly and Bilbo wished with all his heart that he could be happy for Thorin Oakenshield. He dearly wished that somewhere along the way, something would happen to stop Fëanor from adding to the bitter disappointment the Dwarf had endured all his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am compelled to tell you, dear readers, that henceforth, this story will be a blend of book!verse and movie!verse with my own beloved Fëanorians thrown in the mix (to basically make Gandalf less of a deus-ex-machina presence than he is throughout the original tale). So, if various things seem familiar, it is because I've taken what I prefer from all sources of inspiration and thrown them together in one big bastardization. **

**That said, enjoy!**

3.

The middle of July came and passed, finding the company of Thorin Oakenshield, high up in the Mountains, still four Elves short. They hadn't slowed the pace of their travel (at least not when the weather permitted them to keep to the mountain paths safely) even if Fëanor had become restless and worried about his sons. Maglor should have been recovered and the others should have escorted him back to the group already, unless he was still in a bad way or they had run into some kind of trouble.

But before long, trouble found the others as well. They had ascended the steepest and narrowest part of the High Pass, going in single file along the side of a deep gorge. Long before sunset, the sky had darkened and heavy clouds rolled over them like a pall. The air had been so heavy and full that Bilbo had felt his hair stand on end when the wind ceased and a deep silence fell. Then, chaos erupted all around them.

Above, the bruised sky echoed with loud cracks and flashes of light blinded them. The wind began to howl again, hitting the company from all sides as it sped back and forth in the narrow gap between the mountains with a mournful wail. But the most terrifying sight were the _stone giants._

On the lower slopes and deep inside the mountain valley, cracks and crashes and a tumult of destruction very distinct from that of thunder rose to terrify the company even more. Even Fëanor and his sons had looked down in distress, trying to make out what could possibly sound like it was trying to bring down the mountain. To their absolute shock… the mountains themselves had come to life and were wrestling each other, uprooting trees and smashing cliffs against each other in a grotesque game. Gandalf was the only one with any knowledge about the shapes they could barely make out in their violent game. But even he was not at ease and how could he be, when the cliff at their backs rumbled and hail had begun to pelt them as well? They were terribly unsafe at the mercy of the elements, stuck high up on a wet, treacherous path and likely to be made into game by the stone giants.

His teeth chattering and his eyes wide in a pale face, Bilbo tried to flatten himself against the wall at his back as much as possible. They had halted a very uncertain advance when the last light had failed and finding some kind of shelter became imperative. Amras and Amrod had gone ahead to see if the path held any kind of refuge while the company waited, miserably huddled together. Their ponies were terrified and the Elves' best efforts could not keep them from twitching and neighing shrilly when thunder boomed overhead and destruction boomed below.

Laying all misgivings aside, Bilbo had accepted Fëanor's cloak over his shoulders and even though it had gotten soaked like the rest of their clothing, the Elf at his side felt warm and strong enough for Bilbo to hold onto in a pinch. But he was also restless and taut like an arc of lightning. Peering up, Bilbo could see the Fëanor's rain spattered face drawn in a deep frown.

"We've got to keep moving, we're targets in this place!" someone yelled.

"Can you see what's going on down there? Nobody will ever believe me when I tell them!" Bilbo recognized Bofur's voice.

"Aye, if you live to tell the tale!" Dwalin growled in reply. "It's like this blasted mountain is trying to shake us off!"

They all felt a ripple beneath their feet and the mountain literally _groaned_. His heart beating faster than that of a terrified field-mouse, Bilbo clutched Fëanor's tunic and felt the Elf's fingers dig into his shoulder.

"This is not going to end well," Bilbo thought it was Dori who uttered the unfortunate prediction.

"Not unless they come back with good news," one of the Dwarves replied. "Look, there they are!"

Bilbo tried to peer into the gloom and see the Elven brothers, but the mountain at his back rumbled again and made the poor Hobbit freeze.

"There's a cave, not far from here!" one of the twins shouted. "It looks big enough for everyone, even the ponies! Come on, let's get out of this miserable rain!"

Taking heart at the good news, the Dwarves began to move, treading carefully on the slippery path. But Fëanor would not follow, not even when Bilbo tugged on his sleeve.

"Curufinwë? Come on, you're in the way," Gandalf nudged the Elf.

"I'm not going with you," Fëanor said.

"You're not? Why not, what's gotten into you?" the wizard grumbled, obviously very disgruntled about the whole situation.

"I can't go and hide somewhere safe. My sons are still out there, Olórin!" the Elf said miserably. "They're out there, at the mercy of those things! I can't… I have to find them!"

"But… no, you're not going anywhere!" Gandalf grabbed the Elf's shoulder and shook him. "What good is it going to do your sons if you rush into danger now?"

"I HAVE TO FIND THEM!" Fëanor roared, louder than all the chaos around him, making Bilbo jump out from the shelter of his cloak. "I'm going. Now," the Elf shouldered his pack and shoved Gandalf out of the way, pressing him against the mountain-side.

Wide-eyed, Bilbo saw Fëanor run into his third-born. Celegorm barred the way, giving his father a hard look.

"You're not going out there alone," the younger Elf said.

"Stay with your brothers and Gandalf. I will come back with the others," Fëanor told his son.

"You are NEVER rushing into danger on your own again!" Celegorm shouted, leaving everyone within earshot slack-jawed. "Do you hear me, father?!"

Fëanor's shoulders slumped and Bilbo saw him nodding. Before he knew exactly what was happening, Amrod and Amras had slipped by him, picking their longbows up from the gaping Fili and Kili.

"This is madness! Come with us at least until the storm has passed," Gandalf pleaded.

"I can't. We have to go now. I can't leave Káno out there, injured and in danger!" Fëanor told him.

"Go then. Find your sons," Bilbo heard Thorin's deep rumble, although he could not see the Dwarf. "We will wait for you."

Bilbo could not see much through the sheets of cold rain drenching them all to the bone, but in a flash of lightning, he though he saw Fëanor looming over Thorin, the Dwarf clutching his arm in silent support.

"Get off this blasted mountain pass as soon as you can and wait for us on the other side," Fëanor said. "Good luck," he said to Thorin and a moment after, he vanished into the gloom.

The twins told Kili and Fili where to find the cave they had discovered and then slipped out of sight, leaving the two Dwarves to stare after them with furrowed brows.

"You reckon we'll ever see them again?" Kili asked hesitantly.

"Shut up! Of course we will!" Fili nudged him none-too-gently, turning to the path ahead even before Thorin yelled at them to get moving.

…

Stripped down to his undershirt and breeches, Bilbo sat propped against his piled belongings, huddled under a half-dry blanket. He peered through the darkness, barely making out the shapes of his companions and seeing only the faces of those who's pipes were still lit.

The cave they had sheltered in was neither long nor wide, just big enough to give Bilbo and the others a reprieve from the fury of the elements. The ponies seemed to have grown calmer and even Gandalf's shaggy horse munched on the grain in its sack, near the mouth of the cave.

The wizard had cautioned them against lighting a fire and making too much noise, saying that mountain caves were seldom unoccupied and drawing attention to themselves was unwise. However, not even Gandalf could prevent the Dwarves from having a comfort smoke, as Dori had called it. The mess outside had certainly earned them that right, if there was no warm supper to be had and no fire to dry their clothes.

As he pondered having a bite of whatever provisions hadn't been soaked in the downpour, Bilbo remembered the turn of events which had returned their company to the initial number of fifteen members. The Elves were all gone and Bilbo would have happily said good riddance if he did not recall Maglor's torn back or his father's desperate determination as he set off into the storm.

Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps fate had decided to favor Thorin Oakenshield for once, and would make sure that Fëanor and his sons met the stone giants. But even as the thought entered his mind, Bilbo kicked himself. To wish them harm and even death made Bilbo no better than the worst of them. Of course, they were welcome to lose the trail and never find the company again, but beyond that, it just wasn't in the Hobbit's nature to harbor such evil thoughts.

Beside him, Fili and Kili tried to warm themselves as best as they could and Bilbo heard more than he saw them searching through their packs for a bite to eat.

"How about some of that lembas Tyelkormo gave you?" Kili whispered. "Doesn't taste like much, but it sure fills the stomach."

"No," Fili shushed his brother. "Remember what he said? We're to have only a bite and only if there is nothing else to eat and we're starving."

"I'm pretty hungry now," Kili insisted.

"No! Didn't you hear me? I don't think Tyelkormo gave us lembas for us to squander it."

"Nooo, he gave it to you because he has a crush on you," Kili snickered quietly.

"He does NOT! And hey, you're the one who's always staring starstruck at his longbow!"

"I can't help it! Did you even see it? It's bigger than me!"

"Sure, sure, whatever. Shut your mouth and eat some of this!"

Fili had found some smoked cheese in his pack and shared it with his brother and Bilbo. It didn't make for much of a meal-cheese and bread and some apples-but it was better than an empty stomach and the food from Lord Elrond's pantries had been holding up much better than expected.

…

Outside, the storm seemed to have abated somewhat and the mountain did not rumble ominously anymore. Most of the Dwarves had nodded off and Bilbo himself could hardly keep his eyes open, but he did not sleep as Gandalf and Thorin kept watch at the mouth of the cave and spoke in hushed voices.

"It's still terrible out there," Thorin shifted. Bilbo could only just make out the shape of him resting his had on the hilt of his sword when Gandalf puffed one of his smoke rings.

"The storm is passing, Thorin. They are alright."

"How do you know? You shouldn't have let them leave like that!" the Dwarf grumbled.

"Did Curufinwë look like anyone could have stopped him? They are alright," Gandalf insisted.

"You don't know..."

"You should have waited for Curufinwë's sons a few days ago, when camping was less perilous! But you pressed on, unconcerned with a father's worry. So don't you dare reproach me!" Gandalf snapped, finally losing his patience.

Bilbo held his breath for Thorin's outburst, but the Dwarf merely sighed wearily.

"I am sorry, harsh words are of little use now," Gandalf apologized, likely as surprised as Bilbo was by the guttering of Thorin's temper. "We are all weary and in a foul mood. Get some rest, things will look better in the morning. And if Curufinwë promised he will return, then he will return," Gandalf said.

Bilbo missed Thorin's reply, suddenly distracted by the faint light coming from beneath his blanket. He peered at his sword and saw it glowing with blue fire.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo shouted. He caught a glimpse of Thorin pulling out a bright Orcrist before the floor crumbled beneath him and everything turned white


	4. Chapter 4

4.

For a few agonizing moments, confusion reigned over the entire company. Complete and utter darkness followed Gandalf's explosion, but it was filled with the harsh cries and caws of terrible voices. The Dwarves shouted and the ponies screamed and Bilbo's own calls were lost in the din. He felt himself falling and jostling against his friends, rocks and limbs and he knew not what hitting him painfully. Absolutely terrified, Bilbo scrambled for some kind of purchase, but there was none to be had, as they all tumbled down a narrow tunnel.

Fortunately, the chute wasn't too long, else they would have bashed themselves to pulp against the walls. They landed in a heap of limbs and groans and curses, in the middle of another cave. Torches flickered around them and in their red light, Bilbo could see horrible faces snarling and growling at them. They were surrounded by goblins. Before they could even attempt to straighten themselves, the Dwarves were yanked to their feet by cruel, clawed hands.

They struggled mightily, but the Dwarves were stripped of their weapons and their hands were bound in crude chains. Bilbo squirmed against the prodding hands and somehow, the goblins did not find the Hobbit's sword, tucked beneath his coat. But they slapped iron bounds around his wrists as well and tied him last in the chain of prisoners.

Dwalin was growling and still struggling, two big goblins bashing their clubs against the Dwarf's back to subdue him. Somewhere in the dark, a harsh voice barked some orders and Bilbo heard the cracking of a whip. He felt himself yanked forward and stumbled over his own feet, crashing into Dori's back. For his clumsiness, Bilbo was rewarded with a stinging blow to his backside and the goblins around him laughed cruelly.

"Hurry up, you rat!" the goblins behind Bilbo jeered and cracked their whips.

At another shouted order, they set the company running through the dark, dank tunnel. For how long they ran, Bilbo could not tell. He knew little beyond the pain in his stubbed toes and the ache in his legs that made each step forward a torture. Yet he had to keep running if he did not want to be dragged behind the Dwarves like a rag. Bilbo couldn't even scream past the stitch in his side and the terrible burning in his lungs. The goblins seemed to be herding them down into the mountain as the air became hotter, heavier and filled with the reek of those foul beasts.

Bilbo's vision swam and his damp hair fell in his face. Even if he could have seen better, there was nothing to discern but rough walls and the yawning mouths of other tunnels opening up left and right. No matter how fast they had whipped the Dwarves into running, the goblins were faster and they made sport of their prisoners, nipping them and calling them all manner of unmentionable things.

Bilbo didn't even want to think of Thorin Oakenshield set in bonds, put to the whip and set to drag his companions along like dogs on a string. Yet there he was, Bilbo could hear him cursing and panting somewhere ahead. What a terrible fate had befallen them, the Hobbit thought. Caught and trapped before they could even figure out what was happening to them.

And where was Gandalf? Try as he might, Bilbo could not recall anything after the blinding flash of light the wizard had let out, or the deafening bang that had shaken the cave. Bilbo had fallen through the broken floor in a daze, catching not even a glimpse of the old wizard. But at least the goblins had not put him in chains. Maybe… hopefully, Gandalf was free and he would find a way to help them again. And the Elves… but Fëanor and his sons were far away, gone just when the company needed them the most.

Soon, however, all thoughts of rescue fled from the Hobbit's mind. Just as he felt he would faint from exhaustion, Bilbo crashed into Dori and fell to his knees, the chains biting his wrists painfully. He was all bruised and likely bleeding in places, but Bilbo forgot about his hurts when he saw that they had been dragged into an enormous cave lit with many torches.

Dori helped him back to his feet, saying something Bilbo could not hear past the roaring in his ears. He steadied himself against the Dwarf and saw that they were completely surrounded. Hundreds of goblins cheered and hooted and clanged their hideous weapons at the sight of their captives.

"Get a move on, you scum!" one of them yelled and cracked his whip. Bilbo heard Ori yelping and his brothers calling out to him. But there was nothing to be done, not with clubs and whips and scimitars pushing the helpless prisoners through the cave. The goblin throng parted before them and closed immediately behind. Bilbo could see their horrible faces everywhere he looked.

In this manner, they were forced to the other end, where the cavern was lit with more torches and a fire roared to the side, making the whole place as hot as a furnace. When they finally stopped, Bilbo was pushed and pulled and jostled about until he found himself inside a tight circle of his friends. Somehow, despite the chains, they'd huddled around their youngest and Bilbo saw Kili panting heavily, blood pouring from a gash above his eye.

"What do we have here?" a terrible voice rose over the din. With a final clang of many weapons, silence fell over the goblins and Bilbo heard heavy footsteps thudding against the floor. He could not see much past Gloin and Nori before him and when he finally made out the shape approaching them, Bilbo wished he hadn't.

Not even in his worst nightmare had Bilbo pictured such a horrible creature. It was enormous, bigger than a troll, but the beady eyes in its pudgy face were not those of a dim-witted troll. Not at all. From a crooked mouth full of sharp, black teeth, the goblin laughed as it approached them.

"What a merry little band of rats you brought me. Where did you find them?"

"We caught them trying to sneak in through the back porch," another goblin answered.

"We were not sneaking in! We were just trying to find shelter from the storm!" Thorin shouted.

"How dare you speak to His Magnificence without permission?!"

Bilbo heard a dull thump and Thorin grunting in pain. It seemed to him that the chances of getting out of the tight spot alive were very, very slim and lessening by the moment.

"Who are you? Who are these miserable persons?" the Great Goblin loomed over them.

"Dwarves… and a little creature. We don't know what it is, but we heard it talking to the others."

"Oooh?" Bilbo saw the goblin's eyes lit with interest. "Show me!"

Bilbo gave Kili a desperate look, his stomach plummeting. The young Dwarf clutched Bilbo's coat and the others tightened their circle around him.

"Please, sir… your Highness!" Balin said, coughing to clear his parched throat. "We mean no disturbance. We are only travelers passing through these hospitable mountains."

"And where are you going?" the Great Goblin turned away from Bilbo, his curiosity momentarily forgotten. The Hobbit sagged against Kili, faint with relief.

"We are… on our way to see our cousins and our relatives in the Iron Hills," Balin said. "There was a terrible storm and it forced us to seek shelter."

"He's a liar!" a goblin shouted from somewhere to their left. "They're all liars and Elf friends! There was an old wizard with them and he killed a handful of our best boys before he vanished. We couldn't catch him. And look at this!"

Bilbo heard more clinging and clanging. He guessed it came from their weapons being rifled through and tossed around. Suddenly, the Great Goblin gave a formidable shout.

"I know that sword!" It's the Biter!" he roared and all around the prisoners, goblins were cursing violently and gnashing their teeth. "Take them away! Put them to torture! Find out their names and when you're done with them, bring me their heads!"

Bilbo and the Dwarves were grabbed again and yanked apart. Bilbo heard Kili shouting his name and he tried to reach inside his coat, but his hands were tugged forward and Bilbo could not reach his sword. He saw the Dwarves putting up a mighty struggle, futile though it was, and then... darkness fell over them.

The great fire and all the torches had suddenly gone out. For a moment, everything was silent and still, the goblins just as stunned as their prisoners were. A boom so loud it threw Bilbo flat on his face echoed through the cave and with it, the air burst into fire.

The goblins shrieked wildly and Bilbo saw them fall, beating the air and trying to put out the flames descending upon them. Blue and green sparks were flying everywhere and the cave was filled with terrified screams. The smell of blood and acrid smoke choked Bilbo's lungs, making him gag.

"What is going on?" he shouted.

"I don't know, but watch out, lad!" Nori turned toward him and brought his bound hands down the back of a goblin's neck.

Bilbo shuddered at the sound of crunching bone and quickly threw the dead goblin off himself. All around him, the Dwarves struggled to fight as best as they could, while flames still whizzed and sparked around them. Gandalf had come to their rescue again and the wizard's fire chased down the screaming goblins as though it had a mind of its own.

Then, from high above them, Bilbo saw shapes falling from the cave's roof with a terrible yell. But those were no goblin voices! In the guttering light, Bilbo saw long swords flashing and Gandalf's blade lit with fierce fire. They swept through the shrieking goblins like a tide through dark waters, cutting them down before they could stampede off in terror.

Gandalf himself took the Great Goblin on, cutting off his hideous head in one fell swoop. Then, the goblins' panic rose to new heights and they ran blindly, stumbling into the bound Dwarves. But only death awaited them there, even after the last spark of wizard-fire went out.

Only Glamdring could be seen, always on the move, slashing and tearing. The clamor of all that carnage bounced off the cave walls, magnified to a terrible noise that made Bilbo want to cover his ears. The darkness only made it worse, but through it, Bilbo thought he could hear Elven voices calling out to each other or roaring in fierce battle cries. For the goblins, the terror of that attack knew no bounds.

Before long, the howls and shrieks dwindled and the sickening sounds of blades at work drew off. It seemed to Bilbo that they were alone in a darkness so thick he could not make out his hand even if he held it right in front of his nose. Far off and down the way they had been driven into the cave, Bilbo could barely descry Gandalf in the dim light of his sword.

"Do you… do you think they're all dead?" he heard Kili asking hopefully.

"Be on your guard! There may be some left alive in this blasted darkness!" Thorin said.

Chains clanged and the Dwarves stood ready, but not for long. Another boom rattled through the air and the torches sputtered back to life, leaving the company to squint in confusion.

All around them, the cave floor was littered with corpses. The Great Goblin himself lay in a growing puddle of his own black blood. Bilbo shuddered and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He turned toward Kili and looked in the direction the young Dwarf was pointing.

Gandalf shouted something by way of greeting, heading toward them. The Elves followed behind, spreading out through the cave and sweeping through it, sticking their swords into everything that still moved. Before they and Gandalf had reached the company, Glamdring's blue fire had faded completely.

Assorted sighs of relief and gruff greetings welcomed their rescuers. Even Dwalin had to admit he'd never been happier to see Elves his entire life. But the Elves in question made a gruesome sight, splattered from head to toe in blood and gore. Bilbo saw that not all the blood was black and knew that the Elves had taken some wounds as well, but they did not pay them any mind. And none of them seemed particularly concerned that they counted only six and two were missing. Bilbo could not see Celegorm's light-colored hair anywhere.

"I take my eyes off you for one moment and this is what happens?" Fëanor asked them, wiping the grime off his face with the back of his hand. But he was smiling as he searched for Thorin. "I hope none of you are too badly injured."

Some grumbled no and some yes, but on the whole, they had escaped far better off than any of them could have hoped for.

"You made it back," Thorin said to the Elf. He held out his hands and Fëanor knelt, making quick work of the goblin steel with his sword.

"I said I would, didn't I? And not a moment too soon, from the looks of it," the Elf shook his head. "This is quite a predicament you've managed to land yourselves in."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I have belatedly noticed some mistakes in previous chapters that I wish to apologize for. English is not my first language and I am susceptible to sometimes using wrong words or spelling them wrongly. Also, I have no beta-reader and I proof-read as I write, which is to say, on the run. That's not exactly a valid excuse, but all the same, I apologize for my errors and hope none are glaring enough to distract from the story. If you spot anything wildly amiss, please drop me a word, I will be very grateful for it.**

* * *

5.

"We've got to get out of this gods forsaken place," Maedhros said, his eyes searching the many openings in the cave walls. "We've got to get out of this reek."

Bilbo could not agree more. He rubbed his abused wrists when the Elf cut his bonds and saw the others doing the same, while Gandalf inspected them for injuries.

"The reek will be the least of our worries if we linger here," the wizard said. "We might have chased that rabble off, but the mountains are crawling with goblins. They'll be after us once their fear passes and they realize we're not an army sprung from nowhere, but just a handful of people. If you're all good on your feet, we should be off."

"Aye, but where to? Do you know where we are? And which way to go?" Balin asked.

"One question at a time, Master Dwarf. We are deep underground, right in the heart of the goblins' lair. From here the tunnels lead every-which way, but I think I can still tell west from east and north from south even so deep underground. As for the way out, I think we might have to just follow our noses."

That was a very unsatisfactory answer and the Dwarves said as much.

"Can't we try the same way you got through? And how did you get here, now that we come to it?" Gloin wanted to know.

"If you can climb like spiders all the way up to the ceiling, be my guest," Gandalf bristled.

"But you're not spiders…"

"No, we are not," Maedhros offered with a small smile. "But even we could not make the journey back up. We crawled in through some very narrow tunnels, most of them used to let smoke out and some air in. Even these beasts have to breathe something other than their noxious fumes. If it weren't for the rising heat and the noise they were making in here, I don't think we would have found you. Now we've got to do as Gandalf says and follow our noses out of here. I think perhaps… we should try that way," the Elf said, pointing to a tunnel that opened behind the Great Goblin's platform.

"Beg your pardon, lad, but I see now that there's only six of you here," Oin came closer, giving Maedhros a concerned look. "Might I ask what has happened to your brothers? Is Canafinwë alright?"

"Ah, yes. Káno is alright, my friend. I am happy to say that he has recovered very well from his injuries. "

"That's a relief. I was beginning to think he might be unwell and then your father took off in such a worry. But where is he?"

"Father would not let him down into the mountain. When we came upon Gandalf and he told us what had befallen you, father forbade Káno to come with us and left Tyelkormo with him, under strict orders to get off the mountain and wait for us on the other side. I must say, the two of them were not very happy, but better for them to be outside than here."

"That's good to hear," Oin breathed a sigh of relief. "When you were late in catching up with us, your father worked himself into quite a bother."

"I'm sorry about that," Maedhros smiled. "We should have not tarried so long, Káno felt much better after a few days and he'll be wanting to thank you for the great job you've done patching him up, Master Oin. The reason it took us so long to rejoin you is a hunt we set on. As we followed your trail, we saw that we were not the only ones. We found warg scouts spying on you and dispatched quite a few, but some got away and we chased after them. But we could not cover the same distance they did on foot and Káno could not exert himself too much. We gave up following the trail when it lead us too far north and then we sped after you as quick as we could. But that terrific storm came and forced us to take some shelter. I can't even begin to explain what it was like down the mountain. I've never seen anything like that my whole life and the First Age was full of wondrous things…," the Elf said, shaking his head.

"We thought you might be down there getting crushed into pulp by the stone giants."

"We might have been, if we hadn't fled fast enough. But it kept us from finding you until now."

"And that is for the best," Gandalf said, coming to stand by them.

Bilbo saw the wizard leaning rather heavily on his staff and meant to ask him if he was wounded, but Gandalf would not be still long enough for that.

"You would have been made prisoners along with everyone else and that would have been a much worse fate. Come now, there is no time to exchange stories. Not in this place. I thought you were eager to be gone."

"And we are," Oin replied. "But what about our provisions? And our weapons? What have these beasts done with them?"

While they had talked, the rest of the company had not been idle. They'd searched the cave and found no trace of their poor ponies. The unfortunate beasts had been carried off sometime before the attack and Bilbo's heart ached to think what might have happened to them in those awful, dark tunnels. But there was not time to search for the ponies.

Even more unfortunately, the goblins had turned their packs inside out and trampled all the food, leaving nothing but crumbs and broken pottery. Even the water flasks had been torn, only three of them still usable and having little water in them. They all drank it and then took a sip of miruvor from the Elves. Without it, they might as well have curled up on the floor and slept, such was the exhaustion that suddenly came over them.

Although sodden and trampled, they could still use some of their blankets and bed-rolls. These, the company stuffed into their packs and slung them on their backs. The greatest relief came from finding their weapons more or less intact, piled under the dead bodies of several goblins. Thorin strapped Orcrist to his side once more and all the others armed themselves, glad to stop feeling so defenseless. But after that, Gandalf would not let them linger a moment longer and lead them through the tunnel Maedhros had pointed out before. They nibbled on a little bit of lembas as they went and immediately felt as though they could keep going for hours. That was good, Gandalf said, they would need to keep going for hours and put as much distance between them and the goblin lair as possible.

…

Picking the right path through the goblin tunnels was no easy business and even Gandalf was hard put to it. After leaving the great cave, they felt their way slope further down into the mountain. The may have been going downhill, but it felt no less tiresome, not when Gandalf urged them on and only allowed them the briefest respite. He was right to do so, because after some hours of hard march, they heard noises echoing through the tunnels behind and around them. The goblins had rallied themselves and begun the chase.

Bilbo could not possibly keep up with the others and had to be carried. He was passed on from one Elf to the other and even though they tried to jostle him as little as possible, still, he spent most of the time wishing he were back in his safe Hobbit hole. He'd grown very tired of the darkness and the stifling air and the shrieks that bounced off the stone walls behind them.

When the tunnel suddenly forked before them, Gandalf quickly motioned the Dwarves to go through the northern branch. He ushered Bilbo in with them and the only light they could move by was that of his little sword. Thorin, the wizard and the Elves had all stayed behind, meaning to ambush their pursuers.

Sitting in the dark and waiting for something to happen was somehow worse than running away from it. Bilbo watched his blade glow brighter and brighter, wavering in his shaking hands until he set it down. Having to fight enemies he could not see in that dark, narrow tunnel was a fresh horror that Bilbo felt he could not endure.

But no goblin made it past the ambush. Again, their screams of terror ran through the roots of the mountain as they were cut down one by one. When Thorin and Gandalf finally returned to the company, they said that Beater and Biter had put such fear into the goblins that they had trampled each other in their attempt to escape. But Fëanor had taken his sons in pursuit, turning their hunters into prey and meaning to leave none alive.

"We should hurry on as fast as our Hobbit's legs can still carry him. The Elves will catch up with us when they are done," Gandalf roused them and put them on the move again.

A day might have passed in the outside world when even the Dwarves were too spent to keep running. They could not tell if they had gotten any closer to a way out of the mountain, but the air seemed less stuffy and foul. And, most importantly, there had been no more pursuers after them, none that the Elvish blades and the Elves' keen sense of hearing could pick up.

The company took shelter in an alcove just big enough to hold the Dwarves if they sat close to each other, propped against the wall. Most of them did just that, threw themselves down and went to sleep even before they could have a bite of lembas. Thirst plagued all of them but there was little to be done about it. Even if they found some underground stream, they could not count on the water to be safe for drinking.

Gandalf lit the stone in his staff and in that meager light, they all tried to get some rest, while the Elves took up guard both ahead and behind. He was trying to settle as comfortably as possible on the uneven ground when Bilbo saw Maedhros not far off, huddled against the wall in a miserable ball. The Elf's face seemed drawn in discomfort and Bilbo wondered if he had been hurt in the fighting more than Maedhros had let the others know. Before he knew he was doing it, Bilbo was on his feet and heading toward him.

But hands shot out of the darkness and pulled Bilbo aside before he could reach Maedhros.

"Shh, don't fret, it's just us," Amrod whispered in his ear. "You meant to speak to Maitimo, did you not?"

"Yes," Bilbo hissed, unhappy with they way he'd been grabbed and sat between the twins. "He looks hurt, I just wanted to ask him if he is unwell."

"He's alright," Amras whispered in Bilbo's other ear. "Well, he's not, but there is nothing we can do for him. It's best to just leave him alone."

"It's these tunnels, Bilbo. Being underground in these filthy tunnels. I think they remind him too much of his captivity. You know, in Angband," the Elf's whisper ended ominously.

"He won't want to talk about it. He never did tell us a word about what happened to him. He said he didn't even want us to try and imagine what he'd been through."

"But we could see it well enough for the rest of our lives in Beleriand. Maitimo was not always the way you see him now. Young, fair, whole... No, he bore his pain and his scars both inside and out. I think that even after thousands of years in the Halls of Waiting, our brother is still not free of that terror and it weighs on him now," Amrod said.

"He should feel better once we're back into the sunshine, but for now, it's best to let him be."

Bilbo looked at the unhappy Elf and thought his brothers had it all wrong. Maedhros needed comfort and to be reassured, not left alone and frightened in the dark. There and then, the Hobbit forgot his anger with those Elves, he forgot their lies and how he was supposed to hate them. Ignoring the brothers' hushed protest, he freed himself from their grasp and strode toward Maedhros.

He could not see the Elf's face and if there was surprise in it or not, but it did not matter.

"I hate this place too", Bilbo whispered. He sat down and tucked himself into the Elf's side, putting a hand on his arm. He felt Maedhros stiffen for a moment and then some of the tension seeped out of him. Perhaps he was smiling when he uncurled himself and put an arm around Bilbo's shoulders, drawing him closer protectively.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Dreaming of water was Bilbo's undoing. In his uneasy sleep, he dreamed of cool fountains and bubbling mountain springs and fresh mint tea with a squeeze of lemon on a hot summer's day. He woke up practically feeling the cool liquid go down his throat and it was very hard not to cry as Bilbo came back to the same nightmarish reality. He was still trapped in the stuffy darkness, no closer to finding a way out than before and still horribly thirsty.

Nobody stirred around him and even the Dwarves had quieted in their sleep, snoring only very softly. At Bilbo's side, Maedhros leaned against the wall and Bilbo felt more than he heard the Elf's even breathing. He hoped that whatever passed for Elven sleep would bring Maedhros some measure of peace in that accursed place. But still, the matter of quenching his thirst remained.

As quietly as only a Hobbit could, Bilbo got up and moved slowly in the darkness. No matter how much he strained his eyes, there was nothing to be seen. Bilbo pulled out his sword and saw the blade gleam faintly. But then, it hadn't completely gone out at all since misfortune had landed the poor Hobbit deep inside goblin country.

He put one foot in front of the other carefully, feeling his way through the tunnel and listening for signs of danger. Suddenly, Bilbo's hand found nothing to prop against and he stumbled through the mouth of a side tunnel. He scrambled to regain his footing and stubbed his toes badly. With a soft yelp, Bilbo crouched miserably, cursing his poor luck and not for the last time.

As he sat there brooding, Bilbo thought he could hear water trickling somewhere inside the narrow tunnel. His throat felt very, very dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth immediately. He was probably so desperate for a drink that his hearing had begun to play tricks on him.

But there it still was, a pitter-patter that played on Bilbo's nerves and made his stomach clench painfully. He needed to find that water, he had to have a drink and how grateful the others would be when he brought them something to refresh themselves! Gandalf may have said that underground waters could be foul, but they were drawing nearer to the eastern side of the mountains and surely, not all waters issuing from them would be unfit to drink!

Need eventually won over caution and Bilbo sat up. He held out his sword before him and still, it glowed very dully, helping him advance not at all. In the back of his mind the Hobbit knew it was folly to venture into the darkness on his own and that no good would come of it if he went any further, but his feet had a will of their own and carried him toward the water nonetheless.

Those same treacherous feet tread upon thin air a moment later and Bilbo stumbled forward, waving his hands wildly. There was no purchase to be found and the ground beneath him fell steeply, sending Bilbo rolling down in a heap. Sharp teeth of rock bit into his clothes and his skin, but still he did not stop. Even his frightened yell got cut off and the last thing Bilbo heard was a sickening thud. Stars exploded before his eyes and then, he knew no more.

…

Bilbo was sure that light shouldn't have had such a grainy quality. And the shapes of things around him should not have been so blurred. He'd taken a nasty blow to the dead and spend gods knew how much time in utter darkness, but still… his eyes should have adjusted already. The colors were muted and sounds had an underwater feel to them that confused the poor Hobbit greatly.

He had paid little mind to all of that while making his desperate escape, but as he sat hidden in some bushes, trying to catch his breath, Bilbo began to take notice. It must have been the ring he still had on his finger! The wonderful magic ring he had found.

Bilbo had plunged from the goblin gate into a narrow valley, cloven into tree-covered ridges. He'd made it all the way to the eastern side of the Misty Mountains! But there hadn't been any time to take in the view, not with a band of enraged goblins clamoring after him. Bilbo had managed to give them the slip, using the magic ring which made him invisible of all great and useful things! But his torn coat and his missing brass buttons stood testament to how narrow the escape had been.

Fortunately for Bilbo, the goblins did not pursue him away from the gates. Gandalf had said that goblins hated sunlight because it hurt their eyes and made them very sluggish. They were unlikely to chase after him while the sun was still up in the sky, but that did not mean the _Gollum_ creature would not risk it.

With a shudder, Bilbo drew his coat tighter about himself, trying to quiet his labored breathing and giving his surroundings wary looks. He should have still been invisible, but he also cast a shadow and that was very visible. It had nearly cost him everything as he struggled, stuck in the goblin gate. And the miserable creature whose ring he was wearing had certainly been desperate enough to get past the goblins and come after him.

A fit of panic threatened to seize Bilbo anew and he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. The worst was behind him, he had to believe that, there was nothing for it. He had escaped from the tightest spot he'd been into, all alone, with nobody to come to the rescue.

That only served to remind the poor Hobbit how he was, indeed, all alone. No food, no water, no supplies, no blanket to wrap himself in, no pony and worst of all, none of his friends anywhere near. Bilbo had slipped out of danger but his woes certainly did not end there. What was he to do on his own, out in the wild, with nothing but a little sword in his hand?

A miserable thought entered his mind. What if the Dwarves and the Elves and even Gandalf were still trapped inside the mountain? What if they were still in there, looking for him or worse, what if they had been attacked again? While he knew that they were not defenseless and would sell their freedom at a very high cost, anything could happen in those accursed tunnels and the goblins knew them well while the company groped blindly. What could Bilbo do? Would he have to girt himself and go back? Could he possibly ever endure being underground again and least of all in a place where that miserable creature sat waiting to squeeze the life out of him?

But before anything else, Bilbo had to find a bit of water to drink. There had been a pool in Gollum's cave, a great dark, icy lake. But Bilbo didn't have the chance to take a drink and upon second thought, he thanked what little fortune he still had for preventing him from it. Who knew what foul things, what _dead_ things lay at the bottom of that lake?

He disentangled himself from the brambles and carefully descended the upland valley, keeping to the shade of trees when he could find it, although Bilbo longed for the feel of sunlight on his skin. He began to despair of ever finding anything else but dry grasses and gravelly ground under his tired feet, but as he walked along the stony path, Bilbo thought he could hear voices.

Sticking close to the rocky wall on his left, Bilbo crept closer, peering into the dells below the level of the path. He could see nothing but bushes and low trees, but the voices gradually became clearer and Bilbo could tell that the people talking were not goblins. Holding his breath, Bilbo moved even closer and just around a bend in the path, he saw a dark haired Elf perched on a boulder.

Bilbo recognized Caranthir and breathed a sigh of relief. He made to run and wanted to shout with joy, he was saved! But something made Bilbo halt mid-step and snap his mouth shut. He saw Caranthir's eyes narrowing as the Elf peered straight though him and Bilbo remembered he had not taken the ring off.

"What is it?" Balin walked up to the Elf.

"I don't know, I thought I heard something but… there's nothing there," Caranthir pointed toward Bilbo.

"Must have been some wild creature," the Dwarf shrugged. He turned away and missed the intense look of distaste that passed over the Elf's face.

But Bilbo saw it plainly and that halted his advance altogether. He forgot all about his hunger and his thirst and the relief of having found his friends. Suddenly, a new thought entered Bilbo's mind and he backed into the wall as quietly as he could, leaning against it.

Through means that the Hobbit did not yet have the heart to think back on, he had come across a magic ring that made the wearer invisible. Not even the Elf's keen sight had been able to pick up his presence. Which meant that for the first time since they had set out on their journey, Bilbo had an advantage over Fëanor and his sons. He could not let them know about the ring. In fact, he could not let anyone know about the ring. They would all want to see it and gods forbid, Fëanor might even try to take it from him.

No, under no circumstance were they to learn anything about Bilbo's treasure. But for that, he had to sit and think of a way to explain his own escape. He had to be cynical. He needed to play the same game of lying… or _twisting the truth to his purposes_, and hope that the Elves (not to mention Gandalf) would be none the wiser. It would be difficult, it went against the very nature of the Hobbit to think in such terms, but then a lot of things he had been forced into along the way were against his nature and Bilbo hadn't been given any choice but to overcome them.

He came out of his debate a few moments later, when he heard his name being called out.

"How on earth could you lose the Hobbit?!" he heard Gandalf bristling at someone.

"I didn't mean to. He was gone when I awoke and I didn't even have the chance to call for him before we were attacked," Maitimo answered. Bilbo's heart gave a guilty twinge when he thought about the only Elf in that lot he found agreeable.

"What about the rest of you? I know it was a great confusion, but how could none of you see one of our company is missing?"

"You said it yourself, it is a miracle we haven't chopped each other to pieces, fighting in that tight spot. Then you lit your fire again and told us to make a run for it. And we did! There was no time for counting," Dori protested.

It made Bilbo smile crookedly, half ashamed for having disappeared without a word and half angry with his friends for overlooking his absence so easily.

"I am sorry. We must go back and find him," Maitimo said. Bilbo saw the Elf 's head rise above the vegetation that obscured the others as he made his way toward the path.

"What are you doing? Are you insane? You can't go back there!" Caranthir put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"And what do propose we do? We can't just leave him there!"

"No, but… hold on! You're not running back into those goblin infested caves just like that. Father! Tell him he can't!" Caranthir shouted over Maitimo's head, still holding onto his brother's arm.

"Nelyo, stop. We've got to think about this," Fëanor also walked up to his eldest son. "Right now, the gate and those tunnels must be crawling with every goblin left beneath the mountain. If Bilbo is still alive in there, we won't be able to help him now. What good will it do him if you get yourself killed at the gates?"

"Then what…?" Maitimo sighed, his face pinched with distress. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Get everyone else to safety first. By night time these hills will be swarming with goblins. Perhaps we can attempt to sneak back into the mountain then, when they're out on the hunt."

"But by then, who knows what they might do to poor Bilbo!"

"I understand your concern and I'm just as frustrated for losing him, but…" Fëanor sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Come back down and let's talk to Gandalf. He'll think of something we can do."

The look of helplessness and misery that Maedhros cast back toward the goblin gate finally decided for Bilbo. He was safe and sound, he'd not been imprisoned or hurt (too badly) and if he was honest with himself, his own foolishness had gotten him lost in the first place. There wasn't any point in making the others feel guilty and worry anymore.

Bilbo crept back behind the bend in the path and when he was out of sight, he took off the ring. He reeled under the barrage of color and sound and how much clearer everything had suddenly become. The Hobbit shook himself and then tucked the little golden ring into a secret pocket of his waistcoat. Inhaling deeply, he walked out of cover, plastering a huge, relieved smile on his face.

"Oh, thank the gods you're here!" he shouted, running toward the Elves.

They all jumped and gaped at the unexpected apparition.

"It's alright! I'm here! I'm safe, though I got a little lost and I was really afraid for a while there. But it's all…"

He got cut off and all the air squeaked out of him when Maedhros knelt and crushed him in a big hug.

"Bilbo, I am so happy to see you!" the Elf breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled at the astonished Hobbit.

Bilbo didn't get the chance to stammer his thanks or any kind of explanation because as soon as the Elf released him, he was passed into Fili's and Kili's arms, the two of them laughing as they hugged him and patted him as though they couldn't quite believe he was alive and in one piece.

* * *

**A/N: I know it might be blasphemy to have skipped over the riddles scene like it's nobody's business, but truthfully, I don't believe anyone should ever re-write that brilliant scene. In my mind, it is a masterpiece that can't be touched.**


	7. Chapter 7

7.

"Well…, it makes sense, Bilbo. You're so small and there must have been such a commotion behind us that the goblins overlooked you," Maedhros said.

"Whichever way it was, I must say, we really do have an expert in our midst!" Oin walked up to the Hobbit and clapped his shoulder. "A fine burglar and I'll not hear anyone say otherwise!"

As the company made their way further from the goblin gate, Bilbo told them about his little misadventure in search for water and then he spun a tale about clambering back up to follow the trail of his friends to the gate. He made no mention of Gollum or the game of riddles and if Gandalf thought there was more to it, he made no mention of his suspicions. But Bilbo felt his keen eyes studying him from beneath Gandalf's bushy eyebrows.

However untruthful his tale about dodging guards and slipping through the gate before they could apprehend him, Bilbo quite enjoyed his success among the company and thought it well that even the most skeptical of the Dwarves had finally come to appreciate his skill.

The Elves said nothing, more concerned with their present circumstances and what lay ahead. That reminded Bilbo they were still two brothers short.

"Do you suppose we're a long way from the path we should have taken before this unfortunate adventure?" he asked Maedhros.

"I don't know myself, but Gandalf says we've come some way north from the road that leads over the mountains. I believe he means to take us south along the stream we've just crossed. But your guess is as good as mine. These lands are unfamiliar to me," the Elf said.

"What of your brothers? Canafinwë and Tyelkormo? Has there been any sign of them?"

"No. But then, we're not expecting any in these parts. The two of them have been told to run east as fast as they could and wait for us near a place called the Carrock. Elrond has shown us maps of these lands. The Carrock is an island of sorts, a cliff in the middle of the Anduin. I understand there are some settlements of men scattered in this area, by the banks of the river. Perhaps my brothers have had time to reach one of them and see about some provisions."

"That would be welcome," Bilbo smiled hopefully. He was still very hungry, even after they had shared the last bits of waybread between them and the Elves had given them the last of their miruvor. Fortunately, they had been able to drink their fill and wash off some of the grime in a little stream, but their situation remained dire. With no provisions to speak of and little in the way of game so high up, there was nothing for it but to tighten their belts and trudge on.

"Anyway, Káno and Turko have a much better chance of finding us than we could ever spot them," Maedhros was saying. He probably meant that the clambering of heavy Dwarf boots was quite the giveaway. Bilbo smiled and nodded, making a bit of a show of how light his steps could be (even though he was tired and his feet ached something fierce).

As the day grew on (toward the evening of July the eighteenth, to Bilbo's astonishment) they managed a good distance without any obvious pursuit. But going along the northern edge of the valley, the company found themselves faced with an unexpected obstacle. Out of nowhere, the hill began to slide under their weary feet and Bombur went down first, in a cloud of dust.

"Watch out! It's a long way down!" Curufin shouted, slipping out of sight on the moving hillside.

And so it was, a long and very dangerous way to the bottom, with slabs and rocks and pebbles and dust sliding faster than they could straighten themselves to ride it out. It was awkward going even for the Elves and they must have made quite a sight, leaping to and fro as though burned, lending a hand if they could or just trying to stay upright themselves. When Maedhros picked a tumbling Bilbo and threw him over his shoulder, the Hobbit could only yelp and clutch the Elf's cloak, hoping that they would not fall down the hill together.

They would have probably continued to slide until the whole hill came down on top of them if they hadn't reached the edge of an old pine-forest. As they came hurtling down and cursing, they latched onto trunks and branches and pulled themselves out of they way with great effort.

"Is everyone alive and accounted for?" Fëanor shouted after he set down a dizzy and shaking Ori.

He was answered in many and colorful ways as the Dwarves dusted themselves off, taking stock of their new cuts and bruises. Dwalin growled and gave Amrod a very dirty look when the Elf leaned too close, to inspect a bleeding scratch on the warrior's arm.

"Bofur, please! Please don't say that could have been worse!" Fili motioned the other Dwarf to be silent when Bofur opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, it could have," Bofur muttered, shaking gravel out of his hat.

"Look at it this way. It will put the goblins in a spot of bother when they'll try to pick up our trail," Gandalf said.

"More likely, it screams 'here we are, come and find us!' to anything with eyes and ears for miles around," Curufin grumbled. "Come on, we cannot stay here. The light is fading," he pointed to the mountains at their back. The sun had already sunk behind the tallest peaks.

Although the suggestion was met with many disgruntled replies, the company set off soon after and did not stop the forced march until night fell over the wooded slopes.

Bilbo was about to set all dignity aside and beg to be carried as he felt he simply could go no further, when they arrived into a wide clearing. A slab of white stone lay in the middle of it and the place had an unwholesome look about it. They all felt it but could not say why.

Like it or not, though, there would be no further marching that night. Some of the Dwarves had already thrown themselves on the ground and breathed the pine-scented air deeply, too exhausted to even speak. Even the perpetually chipper Elven twins had gone quiet, leaning against a large pine tree.

"Well, this is it for the day," Gandalf concluded. He meant to pull out his ancient pipe when a long howl pierced the night. It had come from somewhere in the valley beneath them, but another one, louder and more fierce answered from much closer.

"Now what?" Bilbo heard Caranthir growl.

There was little bit of moonlight and by it, Bilbo could make out the angry scowl on the Elf's face.

"Wargs!" Thorin sprang back to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. "I'd know those foul calls anywhere!"

"I might have known," Caranthir muttered.

A whole chorus of howls suddenly broke out all around the clearing, setting Bilbo's hair on end.

"Remind me again why I signed up for this, father?" Caranthir shot Fëanor a dark look that under any other circumstance, Bilbo would have wondered at.

"You didn't," Fëanor barked in reply.

"Oh. That's right," the younger Elf shot back. But he unsheathed his sword and stood ready, his brothers doing the same.

To Bilbo's horror, it sounded like the whole forest had come alive with more wild beasts than he'd imagined could exist, let alone gather in one place. They howled and growled and called to each other in harsh yells, as though they had all been made mad by the scent of prey.

_They_ were the prey, Bilbo realized with a gut-wrenching jolt. Out of the frying pan and into the fire the company had fallen, from goblin prisoners to warg dinner.

"Up the trees! Climb! Climb quickly!" Gandalf urged them.

Bilbo saw the Elves gape at each other incredulously and then, Nori yanked him, pulling Bilbo after him and his brother.

They scrambled up the spoke-like branches of a large pine tree, followed by Thorin and Dwalin. A little way off, Fili and Kili sat perched right beneath Gandalf, mid way up a larch, Balin and Bombur with them. Oin, his brother, Bifur, Ori and Bofur had found refuge up two slender fir trees and by the time Bilbo had finished the head-count, the first wargs had already walked into the clearing. And the Elves were still down there!

"What are you doing?" Thorin shouted at them.

"Getting ready for a little exercise, Master Dwarf!" Curufin looked up for a moment and Bilbo saw him grinning wildly.

"They are too many! You cannot fight them all!" Gandalf shouted too.

"And what do you propose? Should we scramble up trees like little kittens frightened off by a pack of dogs? Come on!" Curufin swung his sword, planted firmly on his feet and almost egging the wargs on to attack.

Bilbo heard Thorin growl and ready himself to jump back down, but Dwalin managed to restrain him. Just then, a huge, grey animal leaped between the trees they were in, making for Caranthir. The Elf dropped into a crouch and above him, one of his brothers beheaded the animal. That was the signal for carnage to begin.

Bilbo had seen the Elves fight before, against the same creatures, before the company had reached Rivendell. But then, they'd had horses and bows and the advantage of open ground. Hemmed inside the clearing, armed with swords alone and numbering just six, they still littered the ground with corpses faster than Bilbo could follow with terrified eyes. Twice their number, then three times and then more wargs fell, gutted and torn, before the first wave of the attack guttered and none of the remainder dared to step into the clearing.

Between the bodies, Fëanor and his sons stood bloodied and covered in gore, breathing heavily and staring at each other with wild eyes. That very moment, Bilbo feared them more than ever before, seeing for himself what deadly beings the Firstborn could be.

"Curufinwë! Listen to me!" Gandalf shouted and his voice was very loud in the deadly silence that had fallen over the clearing. "You've slacked your blood-lust enough! Now climb, damn you, and see that this was no more than the vanguard!"

"He speaks the truth!" Thorin called out to the Elf as well.

Bilbo saw Fëanor shake himself and the feral grimace fell from his face. He grabbed the son closest to him and pulled him to another ancient pine at the edge of the clearing.

The Elves slipped quickly up the branches and not a moment too soon. Another deafening chorus of howls broke out around them and more wargs poured in, enraged by the sight of their fallen peers. They growled and snapped their jaws and clawed the tree-trunks, tearing the lower branches right off.

Bilbo held on as tight as he could, watching with horror how several of the beasts jumped onto the trunk, shaking the tree violently. But fortunately for the beset company, wargs could not climb and after much desperate gnashing of their teeth, they understood that their quarry was beyond reach.

And it happened that Gandalf had a bit of a surprise in store for them as well. Bilbo saw a little ball of fire fly through the air and land on the snout of a shaggy beast. The warg yelped and tried to put the first flames out, but managed only to spread them. Howling in pain, it thrashed and hit another warg, setting it aflame as well. More fiery projectiles flew from Gandalf's tree in every direction and Bilbo heard Fili and Kili shouting triumphantly.

Before long, the whole clearing was ablaze, wargs running about, howling desperately and dying in horrible pain. The smell was infernal and the heat had begun to reach the company high up in their perches. Bilbo feared that they would be burned as well, stuck there with no means of escape. But Gandalf's fire somehow steered clear of the threes with people in them. By what skill the wizard controlled it, Bilbo could not imagine, but he was immensely grateful for it.

Again, the attackers retreated and some of the dying beasts carried the fire with them further into the forest. Then, for a while, the company had peace, if being caught inside a hellish cauldron of burning corpses could be called peace.

"What do you see, Gandalf?" Thorin called out to the wizard who's position allowed him the widest view of their surroundings.

"I see… that our trouble is far from over," Gandalf answered after a pause. "You'd best all brace yourselves now. The wargs are not the only ones after our hides this night."


	8. Chapter 8

8

_Best brace yourselves_, the wizard had said. Bilbo could not yet see what new danger was upon them and he did not want to see it either. He clutched the tree trunk in both arms, leaning his forehead against the rough bark. He wondered if the nightmare would ever be over and a moment later, he realized that it had only just begun.

Through the columns of acrid smoke and the rising flames on the other side of the clearing, Bilbo saw more wargs approaching. But unlike those that littered the ground, the beasts bore orcs on their backs. Broad and black they were, not the bent and misshapen goblins of the caves and tunnels. Bilbo had seen their like before and knew them to be Gundabad orcs, bloodthirsty and fearless of sunlight. Three of them pushed their mounts into the clearing and behind them came a fourth, holding a huge mace in his right hand.

Bilbo shuddered when he saw the orc's sheer size. The Goblin King had been enormous, but the beast he was looking at seemed to be bulging with muscle under a scarred, pale skin. Even from the distance, Bilbo could see a pair of cold eyes glinting cruelly and two rows of sharp teeth showing in a vicious leer. The orc seemed to be laughing at them as he moved past the others, the warg he rode on sniffing the burning carcases and snarling angrily. Both rider and mount stood out in size and appearance. Bilbo guessed they would be dirty white in daylight, that was if any of the company would ever make it to see another dawn. It seemed very unlikely, if the attackers had their way.

"This is not good!" the Hobbit heard Bofur saying. "Not at all. They'll have axes to chop the trees down and what's worse...orcs can _climb_!"

Bilbo gave the Dwarf a desperate look, not the least bit comforted to see Bofur squirming on his perch. They both shuddered when throaty laughter ran through the clearing and they saw the pale orc pointing some kind of metal fork straight at the tree they were in. With a sinking feeling, Bilbo realized that the orc's weapon wasn't a fork at all, but some kind of clawed hand, at the end of a rod that went through the orc's elbow. It pierced right through the stump and suddenly, Bilbo recalled Balin's tale about a pale orc. Surely, the one barking orders in a terrible tongue could not be the same one... The Dwarves said that he had died of his wounds after Thorin himself had severed his..._ left hand._

Bilbo's stomach plummeted when below him, Thorin gasped incredulously.

"It cannot be," the Dwarf cried out weakly. "It's impossible, it cannot be Azog!"

But it was and the orc laughed even louder, when he heard his enemy's voice. Kicking his mount to move closer, the orc... _Azog_ growled something Bilbo could not understand, but the names Thrain and Thorin he did recognize. Bilbo saw Thorin shiver and his shoulders going rigid. Then, with a furious yell, the Dwarf leaped off his branch and dropped to the ground, rolling forward and springing to his feet.

"Thorin, no!" Balin shouted or it might have been Gandalf, Bilbo couldn't tell. Heart in his throat, Bilbo watched Thorin unsheathe his sword and the blade seemed to ring, not merely glow with cold fire. Almost in the middle of the clearing, the white orc waited with a feral grin on his scarred face. In his remaining hand, Azog held a great mace - a crude, four-bladed weapon - and he raised it, poised for Thorin's charge.

Someone else yelled at the Dwarf, but to no avail. Thorin let out a roar of utter rage and sprang toward his enemy, leaping through flames and over charred warg remains. With mounting horror, Bilbo saw the warg under Azog coiling itself to jump and knew beyond a shadow of doubt that things would end badly for Thorin. The beast leaped as Thorin came nearer, holding Orcrist with both hands. Through the Dwarf's roar and Azog's growl and the beast beneath him snarling, Bilbo could hear the heavy thump of Azog's mace hitting Thorin dead on. It stuck in Thorin's armored vest and Azog yanked it free, letting the Dwarf fall on his back with a loud groan.

Several people called out in pain and disbelief, including Bilbo himself. Shaking and clutching the rough bark hard enough to break the skin of his fingers, he watched Thorin stagger back to his feet, propping himself on Orcrist, but he was badly wounded and stood no chance of defending himself. The warg twisted back toward him, back-paws digging deep into the ground as it sprang again. Bilbo could no longer see the Dwarf, but he heard him screaming in pain. Azog let out a triumphant roar and the beast beneath him turned, picking Thorin up in its massive jaws.

Then, several things happened all at once. Crying out wildly, Fili and Kili jumped from their tree and charged blindly to their uncle's rescue. Dwalin gave a terrible yell and followed after them. The other Dwarves dropped to the ground one by one, heedless of the flames still roaring around them. Bofur broke several branches in his mad rush to get down and the Elves were also springing from the shelter of their trees.

Anger suddenly filled Bilbo, drowning out his fear. He grit his teeth and prepared himself to leap. Come what may, he would not stand by and watch his friends die. But he froze hanging from a branch when another scream tore through the air. Horrified, Bilbo saw Thorin being spat out and tossed aside, when Kili finally reached the white warg and smote its head with his broad sword. Fili would have cut the warg's throat but Azog swung his heavy mace and hit the young Dwarf, crushing the legs from under him. Fili crumpled in a screaming heap and his brother froze in shock, watching with terrified eyes as the mace descended upon him.

But the crude weapon hit empty ground and Kili was shoved out of the way, one of the Elves landing in an crouch beside him. Battle broke out all around them, when the other orcs spurred their beasts into mauling the charging Dwarves. Bilbo saw Dwalin bringing his hammers down on the white warg's head before he let go of the branch and fell from the tree. He rolled on the charred grass and pulled out his sword before he could think better of it. Shouting from the top of his lungs, Bilbo ran toward his friends.

He swung his sword wildly, taking off the arm of one orc, while Gloin smashed his knees and Bifur lobbed off the hideous head. Next too them, a warg gave out one last wail and died, but more were coming, Bilbo could hear them snarling just out of sight. He had a moment to look ahead and see Fëanor blocking Azog's iron arm with his sword, then ducking a blow from the orc's mace. Azog roared when another Elvish blade sliced his back, but the great orc merely staggered, retreating behind a barrage of mounted wargs.

After that, Blibo could see no more, too busy trying to stay alive. It was all he could do to avoid being trampled, mauled, skewered, set aflame or get in the way of his friends as they fought. It must have been chance that kept his hand steady enough to land a few blows and escape with none himself. He began to grow weary after a while and didn't even notice they were all being hemmed into a circle around the white rock, until Gandalf grabbed his shoulder.

"Bilbo Baggins, what are you doing here? This is no place for a Hobbit!"

In truth, it was a place for nobody to be in. Bilbo cast a glance around him and saw his companions standing close to each other, weapons in hand. They'd killed all the attackers but though the flames, beady eyes shone in every direction Bilbo looked. And behind him, in the middle of their circle, Kili crouched trembling between the unconscious forms of his brother and his uncle, looking from one to the other with desperate eyes.

"Stay with me, Bilbo," Maedhros said, giving Bilbo's arm an encouraging squeeze. "No matter what happens, stay close to me. I will try to keep you safe."

Bilbo mustered as mall smile for the Elf's benefit, but he doubted that either of them would ever be safe again. There seemed to be no end to those wargs and however many were killed, their number would never be depleted. If weapons did not kill the company, fatigue would. But the fierce look on the Dwarves' faces said they would gladly die standing and defending their own. Bilbo clutched his sword and steeled himself to meet and end that would be worthy of remembrance... if anyone would be left to tell the tale.

Wargs and orcs both astride them and on foot stepped even closer, tightening the circle. They seemed to be taunting their prey, delaying the final pounce and enjoying the suspense. Bilbo thought he could make out the leering face of their leader somewhere ahead, just under the line of trees.

"I am not going to die here!" Fëanor shouted. "I will fight every one of you to the last and kill you all! I WILL NOT DIE HERE!" the Elf roared and for a moment, even the wargs quit their growling.

From somewhere high above, a piercing call answered him. But there was no time to look up and see the what creature had cried out. Not when the Elves leaped forward, charging into their attackers. How was Bilbo supposed to stay with Maedhros when two of the Elf's strides had taken him away and straight into the jaws of danger?! But there was nothing for it, the Hobbit grit his teeth and followed, resisting the urge to close his eyes and shut everything out.

Bilbo came face to face with a snarling orc and blocked his scimitar at the very last moment. He jumped and parried a few more blows, enraging the monster even more. With a ferocious scream, the orc lunged, careless that Bilbo's blade had torn through his side. But the black blade meant for Bilbo's throat fell harmlessly on the Hobbit's shoulder when his attacker was suddenly pulled up and away.

Slack-jawed, Bilbo stared after the orc and saw it thrashing in the talons of an enormous bird. He became aware of loud cries, much closer an many of them, punctuated by the flapping of huge wings. Flames went out and sprang back again as the air was blown from every direction and Bilbo realized that the... _whatever they were_ swooped down into the clearing, picking up wargs and orcs in their huge talons. He wasn't the only one gaping at the rising birds, watching them drop their prey from high up, only to fall back again and pick more.

Bilbo threw himself on the ground and crawled closer to Kili, yanking on the Dwarf's sleeve.

"What in all the god's names are those?" he mumbled, cringing as an orc fell from the sky and was impaled on the tip of a pine tree.

"Eagles," Kili whispered, his eyes huge and wet. "Looks like eagles, but..."

They both stared in disbelief, terrified that they too would be snatched but also rooted to the spot. Then, Bilbo heard a familiar voice yelling '_ATAR!_' from high up and he thought he could make out the shape of an Elf on one of the eagles' back.

"Of course," the Hobbit grinned and slumped to the ground in relief. He finally noticed that the gigantic birds had business only with the orcs and the wargs, picking the clearing clean of them, as they flew in circles and swooped down with piercing cries. But then, he heard Nori screaming and saw him being dropped from the claws of one bird onto the back of another. The eagle took off with one stunned Dwarf clutching its feathers and still yelling in disbelief.

All around him, his friends were being carried away, Bilbo realized. Gandalf was shouting something, waving his staff from the back of another bird, but the eagle's cry drowned out his words. At the very last moment, Bilbo flattened himself against the ground and pulled Kili with him, as enormous talons groped for them. They closed on Thorin instead and, in spite of Kili's desperate cries, Bilbo saw that the eagle moved with great care, picking Thorin up gently. Then, another one descended for Fili and Bilbo could no longer hold Kili back from springing after the bird. Kili latched on to the eagle's leg and the bird wavered, squawking in surprise. But it did not drop the Dwarves, taking to the air with a few mighty beats of its wings. Bilbo saw it flying close to the bird that Gandalf was on and the wizard pulled Kili free from its leg.

"Hold on, little Hobbit!" he heard someone above him shout.

Talons dug into the ground dangerously close to the crouching Hobbit but he didn't have time to gawk at the sheer size of them. Bilbo was yanked upwards and sat on the bird's neck. He felt one arm securing him against his rescuer and Maglor's voice rang in his ear.

"I've got you! Now let's be off from this place!"

Bilbo tottered and gave out an alarmed cry when the bird moved under him, springing into the air. They jostled with every flap of its wings and Bilbo clutched Maglor's arm, squeezing his eyes shut.

"WAIT!" the Hobbit heard Fëanor roaring somewhere below them.

"Damnit, father!" Maglor muttered, prompting Bilbo to risk a peek at the ground. It was getting smaller and smaller and vertigo seized Bilbo immediately, but still he made out Fëanor rolling out of the way when an eagle attempted to pick him up.

"WAIT!" he shouted again, disappearing into the burning trees at the edge of the clearing a moment later.

"What is he doing?" the Hobbit asked Maglor.

"I don't know, but... Look!" the Elf pointed to a pair of eagles that swerved and plunged back toward the fire-lit clearing. Bilbo saw that they carried Celegorm and Maedhros on their backs, but the Elves jumped off when they were at a safe distance from the ground.

Celegorm shouted something and waved his arms frantically, looking up at them. But he was getting smaller and smaller and his words made no sense to Bilbo. Above the clearing and the patch of forest around it, more than a dozen eagles were still circling and calling out to each other.

"He says to go on without them," Maglor told the bewildered Hobbit. "They're off hunting for whoever planned this attack. Why am not surprised?"

Bilbo was and he said as much, but the eagle rose further and further into the cool heights, giving him no choice but to hold on and remind himself to breathe.


	9. Chapter 9

9

"Don't worry! I won't let you go," Maglor laughed in Bilbo's ear.

They were still high up in the chill morning air, on the back of an eagle, heading toward Bilbo had absolutely no idea where. His heart was only just beginning to stop racing and he couldn't bring himself to look down, even though the great bird soared on some unseen current and the flight was very smooth.

"Might as well enjoy yourself," the Elf said. "How many people in this world can claim they've flown over the Misty Mountains? I promise you, you're very safe," Maglor tightened his hold on Bilbo a little more.

"Not until I have firm ground under my feet," the Hobbit muttered. But he willed himself to relax and have a look around himself.

The air was so crisp and cool that Bilbo felt his cheeks reddening and he coughed when sucking in a deep breath. All around them, other great eagles floated in silence, each bearing one or two people on their backs. Bilbo could see some of his friends and the wonder in their faces as the light grew and the shadows over the world lifted.

Looking over his left shoulder, Bilbo saw the eastern sky coming alive and beneath it, distant lands lay in a haze. But on the more immediate horizon a dark blanket seemed to have been pulled over the lands, spread from north to south as far as the eye could see. Bilbo guessed that it was Mirkwood, the ancient forest that had once born a less ominous name: Greenwood the Great. It was great still and just at the edge of sight, Bilbo thought he could see a smudge, a lump of something darker against the pale morning sky.

"That is the river Anduin over there," Maglor pointed beneath and to their left, where a ribbon of water caught the first light of day and gave it off in a faint twinkle. Bilbo was much more interested in how Maglor didn't hold onto anything and kept them both on the eagle's back by just the strength of his legs. "And look, you can still see stars in the western sky!" the Elf said.

"Yes, it's... very beautiful," Bilbo answered hesitantly. "Um... I don't suppose you know where they are taking us?"

"And how long until we get there?" Maglor laughed. "It just so happens that I do. The eagles are taking us to their eyrie. And we still have some way to fly, as it were. We should be there before the sun is fully risen."

"Eyrie? You mean... with nests and everything?"

"There are some nests, yes. But I did not see any baby eagles."

"You mean to say... you have already been there? When?" Bilbo made to turn and look at the Elf, but then he remembered his position and stopped himself.

"Yesterday afternoon. I suppose a little tale is in order, if only to take your mind off these bothersome heights."

Although the Elf was teasing him, Bilbo could find no ill will in his amused tone. And truthfully, he was also curious what had happened to the brothers since he had seen them last.

"If you please... How did you come by these wondrous birds?" he asked.

"They came upon us, actually. Perhaps father has said how he gave Turko and I instructions to head east without delay. We came down from the pass yesterday morning and spent the better part of the day picking our path downhill. At some point, there was a great rumble and we saw a column of dust rising north and higher up the mountains than we were. So, we searched the tallest tree and climbed to investigate what the matter was. That's where the eagles spotted us."

Bilbo chuckled to himself thinking it a rather amusing coincidence that all of them had been up trees at some point or another. Then, he remembered the desperate situation they had escaped from and his amusement faded.

"Two great eagles were scanning the mountainside, drawn by the commotion out by the goblin gate, no doubt. They circled down to us and picked us up, asking if we knew anything about what had turned the mountain into such a frantic anthill."

"Wait... they asked you? The eagles can _talk_?"

"They can talk, yes. After their own fashion and if you know how to listen."

At that, the eagle gave out a cry that startled Bilbo badly.

"It can understand us now?" Bilbo squeaked, his eyes growing wide.

"_He_ can understand us quite well, I believe."

Bilbo slapped a hand over his mouth, as the eagle cried out again, flapping its...no, _his_ wings. Behind the Hobbit, Maglor seemed to find it all very entertaining.

"Don't worry, you have not said anything too mortifying. Certainly nothing that will have you eaten like a little rabbit," the Elf chuckled.

Coughing and feeling his cheeks burn with more than just the cold air, Bilbo pleaded with Maglor to continue his tale.

"Where was I? Ah, yes. The two scouts allowed us on their backs when we gave them our names and told them that we have friends possibly still trapped inside the mountain. It gave us heart to hear that the goblins were in an uproar, it meant that you had gotten away somehow and we hoped that the eagles would help us find you. The two of them flew with us to the place where dust was still settling and we saw the massive landslide, but no sign of you."

"Oh, you missed us by very little, it was us that sent the hill rolling."

"It was? What poor fortune! We might have rescued you then and saved you from a lot of trouble. But I suppose Gandalf had you tucked under the canopy so well that not even the keen eyes of the eagles could pick you out. What's done is done, though, better late than never. I am glad that the whole eyrie took wing when the fire broke out. But before that, the eagle scouts took us all the way north to their lord, so that we could tell him our business and the trouble of our company. That will be the eagle carrying Gandalf, Lord Gwaihir. We were to wait in the eyrie until morning and then be set down by the river, if we had no news of you until then. But then Gadnalf set the forest aflame, I presume, and we guessed trouble had found you. So, we came to the rescue... and not a moment too soon, from the looks of it," Maglor finished.

"No, not a moment too soon. We've been getting too many of these close shaves for my liking lately."

"I take that to mean you have your own tale to tell. It hasn't been a walk for you all under the mountain, has it?"

"Indeed not," Bilbo shook his head, not at all willing to remember.

"I wish to hear all about it when time allows. But we've more pressing matters to see to once we are on solid ground. I saw that Thorin has fallen and the young one is in a bad way as well."

Bilbo tried to look over the eagle's neck, both left and right, for a glimpse of his wounded companions. He thought he saw the two eagles with Dwarves in their talons flying close by Gandalf and their lord. Kili was quiet, which Bilbo decided to take as a good sign. If worst came worst, the young Dwarf's heartbreak would make itself heard.

"They will be alright, Dwarves are very sturdy and very hard to bring down," Maglor said.

"And your father? Your bothers?" Bilbo remembered the three Elves they had left behind in the burning woods.

"They will be alright too. There's no stopping father when the fit takes him. A handful of orcs and their ugly mutts are sport for him. He could bring down a Balrog if he wanted to. If it's more than one, then he might have some trouble."

Bilbo snorted incredulously, glaring over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm being a little shit, as Dwalin would put it," Maglor let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Anything to lessen the worrying, I guess."

"I must apologize as well. We have not seen each other for many days and you yourself were in a bad way when we parted. I have not even inquired after your own health, forgive me."

"It's alright. I am well. My injuries do not trouble me at all anymore," Maglor said.

Bilbo didn't know what to make of it as he had no knowledge of Elves and their healing abilities, but since none of Maglor's kinsmen had shown any concern, perhaps the Elf really was healed. He meant to say something polite to Maglor when the eagle suddenly dived and the words caught in Bilbo's throat.

"I think we've arrived!" Maglor raised his voice and Bilbo felt the Elf's chest rise as though he was building up and exhilarated shout. It might have been exciting for him, but for Bilbo, the airborne journey could not be over soon enough.

Breaking through the clouds, the eagles began to fly in great circles over some landmark Bilbo could not make out. But gradually, the mountain-tops grew nearer and one by one, the birds descended onto a wide ledge. It was sheltered by pointy teeth of rock on the western side and beneath it, the face of the cliff descended in giant steps. Upon these and the great platform, there were yet more eagles and Bilbo thought he could see some nests as well.

When their eagle finally set foot on the ledge, Maglor jumped off and plucked a shivering Hobbit off his back. Bilbo clutched the Elf's cloak, waiting for his head to stop spinning and not even daring to think about what lay beyond the edge of the cliff just a few steps away. If it were up to him, Bilbo might have dropped to his knees and kissed the ground, nevermind the ridicule he might have been subjected to for it.

But nobody paid attention to him. The eagles had moved away to give them some room and the entire company was crowded around their injured. Gandalf pushed past the worried Dwarves and Bilbo hurried after him, forgetting all about his dizziness and fear of heights. He saw Fili lying half on the ground and half in his brother's arms, his face pale, but his eyes were open. Bilbo took one look at the young Dwarf's legs and winced. His right leg, at least, was broken badly and bleeding.

Thorin, however, was everybody's immediate concern. He lay motionless, eyes closed and a trickle of blood seeped into his beard from one corner of his mouth. When Gandalf leaned over him, a deep frown creased the wizard's brow. Frantic questions erupted all around him until Gandalf boomed at them to be still and give him some room. Bilbo watched the wizard pass his hands over the unconscious Dwarf with gnawing worry, not even daring to think the worse had come to pass. He could not see whether Thorin was breathing or not, but he held his own breath while Gandalf whispered an incantation and pressed his forehead against Thorin's.

A moment passed and nothing happened, save for Fili moaning weakly. Then, Thorin stirred, his hands twitching. Gandalf sat back and Bilbo saw him swaying as though overcome with fatigue. But everyone's eyes were on their leader and a rush of relief passed though them when Thorin opened his eyes. Dwalin immediately knelt by his side and helped Thorin sit up.

Thorin groaned and passed an unsteady hand over his eyes, trying to clear his head. He made to say something, probably to ask the gawking crowd around him what had happened and where they were, but loud eagle calls silenced him. Bilbo smiled a little when he saw Thorin's jaw drop at the sight of their winged rescuers, but when he followed the astonished Dwarf's look, he saw that more eagles were returning and they brought with them the three missing Elves.

Both the Dwarves and Fëanor's sons stepped aside when Fëanor walked up to them. Bilbo's heart sped at the sight of him, covered in caked blood and murder in his blazing eyes. In his right hand, Fëanor clutched the metallic implement Azog had used for a hand and one end of still had bits of flesh hanging from it.

"YOU! What were you doing?!" the Elf snarled at Thorin. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Thorin's jaw dropped further at the enraged apparition and he simply stared, at a loss for words. Then, his eyes fell on the object in Fëanor's hands and his entire face clouded over.

"What is that?" the Dwarf croaked.

"Azog is dead," Fëanor spat out the words. "I would have brought you his head or his remaining hand, but this," he held up the metallic arm, "This is disgusting enough as it is."

Thorin's brows drew together and for a long moment, everyone held their breath while the two exchanged a furious look, both frowning darkly.

"Why?!" Thorin growled at the Elf. "That filth was mine to kill!"

"Because," Fëanor ground out and Bilbo was sure that if Thorin had been standing, the Elf would have knocked him down. "Because I knew an idiot like you once," he said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. "That idiot let rage consume him and he rushed into death with no thought for consequence. He left his family and his people when they needed him the most," Fëanor paused and some of the angry fire bled out of his eyes. "You're looking at him. But I won't let you make the same mistake!" he said, letting Azog's arm fall with a hollow clang.

The Elf spun on his heels and strode away, passing by the open-mouthed Hobbit, his face drawn in an unhappy grimace.

Thorin tried to scramble to his feet and go after Fëanor, but Gandalf would not let him.

"Not now," Maedhros told the Dwarf. "You can't reason with him now, let him cool first. We must see to your injuries and look after Fili. Father can brood on his own for a while."

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**A/N: Alas, I'm having a couple of busy days and only one more chapter ready for posting, so there will be a little bit of a break after chapter 10, while I write the next section. Even the characters deserve a bit of time-out after all they've been though, eh?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: There be blood and broken bones and gratuitous Celegorm awesomeness ahead! So enter at your own peril. And if the medical wrongness of this chapter hurts your brain, I am sorry, my surgery knowledge is practically nonexistent.  
**

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10.

"Someone help my brother! Please!" Kili cried out. He was down on his knees, cradling a very pale Fili to his chest and looking around desperately.

Bilbo did the same, wondering where everyone had suddenly made off to. He saw Dwalin more or less forcing Thorin out of his many layers of clothing and Balin eying both of them gravely. A little way off and close to the edge of the cliff, Gandalf and Gloin had started a little fire and beside it, Oin sat holding his right arm against his chest gingerly. No help would come from the company's potions master. All the others seemed to be nursing injuries of some kind, the Dwarven brothers focused on each other.

Bilbo spun on his heels and saw Maedhros speaking to Celegorm. He ran to them and tugged the blond's cloak.

"Fili is hurt! Please, you have to help him!"

"Nelyo was just telling me about that," Celegorm said. "I'll see what I can do."

"I must find father. He's... you know, I only hope he'll let me look at that cut," Maedhros said, already turning away from his brother and Bilbo.

The Hobbit hadn't noticed any injury on the Elf but it was the least of his worries. He ran before Celegorm, leading him toward the two young Dwarves. He noted with trepidation how Celegorm could not disguise his grimace upon seeing the state Fili was in.

"Can you help him?" Kili gave the Elf a pleading look.

Without a word, Celegorm took off his cloak and pushed it into Bilbo's hands. He unbuckled his sword-belt, yanked the scabbard free and cast the weapon aside. He lifted Fili's right leg just enough to slip one end of the belt under it and buckled it tight against the Dwarf's thigh. Fili clenched his teeth, trying to hold back a scream, but didn't really manage to. Sweat beaded on the young Dwarf's skin and his face had an ashen hue that Bilbo didn't like at all.

"He's lost quite a bit of blood," Celegorm said.

Taking a deep breath, the Elf leaned over Fili, ignoring Kili's apprehensive look.

"Look at me," Celegorm took Fili's head in his hands and stared at the Dwarf intently, their faces just inches apart. "Look into my eyes," he said and then fell silent for a tense moment.

Bilbo thought he could see the blue of Fili's eyes growing thinner and the Dwarf's hand fell limp in his lap. Celegorm's jaw tightened and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Fili's sweaty brow. Then, he laid the injured Dwarf back in his bother's arms and Bilbo saw that Fili's pupils were blown, as though he had ingested a powerful drug.

"What did you do to him?" Kili whispered.

"Not enough. He's still conscious and will need milk of the poppy. Bilbo!" Celegorm tuned to the Hobbit, shaking his head and trying to clear it. "Find my pack. And send one of my useless bothers to me. Hurry!"

Bilbo didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled in the direction of the first Elf he could find and ignored that it happened to be scowling Curufin. He went for the pack that had a longbow next to it and hoped it belonged to Celegorm. As he ran back, he could hear the Elf shouting at everyone around him.

"Bring me hot water and plenty of it! We had some with us yesterday, but I'll need more. Melt some snow, cry me a river, I don't care how you do it," he glanced at Amrod and Amras over his shoulder. "Just get it done now!"

Bilbo handed the Elf his pack and breathed a sigh of relief to see he'd found the right one. Celegorm rummaged though it and brought out a green pouch.

"Take a few leaves from this and boil them in the biggest pot we've got. Then bring it to me," he said to Curufin.

"I'm sorry, but... have you ever done this before?" Ori inquired hesitantly, giving Fili an anxious look.

"I have seen and had many broken bones, Master Dwarf," Celegorm gave Ori a strained smile. "Although I have never had to mend a Dwarf before. But how different can it be? We should all have the same bone structure, even if the proportions are different."

That did not sound very comforting and perhaps Ori would have said as much, but he clamped his mouth shut and sat down, out of the way.

"Where is that damned hot water?!" the Elf shot an impatient look around himself.

"Here it is! You could_ not_ grunt like an enraged bull, no matter how much it pleases you to boss people around," Curufin rolled his eyes. He was holding out a tankard half full with steaming water, a refreshing scent wafting from it.

Celegorm poured milk of the poppy into it and handed Kili the drink.

"Can you hold him up and help him drink this?"

The young Dwarf nodded and did as he was told, in spite of how badly his hands were shaking.

"Here, wipe his brow with this," Curufin took back the tankard a moment later and put a washcloth in Kili's hand. More of the refreshing scent spread through the air and Bilbo heard the others inhaling deeply.

"_Athelas_, Master Hobbit. It's a leaf we use for... just about everything," Celegorm said with a small smile. "Now tell me, do you have a strong stomach? I will need someone to help me bathe the wound as I work. Can you do that?"

Bilbo nodded bravely, fairly sure that he would rue it later. But one look at Fili's pale, strained face was more than enough to keep the Hobbit at his side.

"Very well, then. Have a full kettle at hand at all times. You," the Elf looked at Kili. "Can you promise me that you will not cry, vomit or pass out?"

Kili's eyes widened and he swallowed convulsively, but he grit his teeth and nodded as well.

"Good. Then you keep holding onto your brother. Everyone else, clear out!" Celegorm ordered. "No, not you," he motioned Curufin to stay. "I'll need your knife-work later."

"Kn...knife-work?" Kili stammered.

"Don't worry, it'll be alright. Just be strong for your brother. Fili? Can you still hear me?" the Elf touched Fili's hand.

Fili moaned softly and searched for Celegorm with his eyes.

"He's still not fully under, damnit! Listen to me. You're going to have to fall asleep, but I promise it will hurt a lot less when you wake up."

Fili's fingers moved under the Elf's palm and Celegorm gave them an encouraging squeeze.

"Now for it... Hold this, Bilbo," Celegorm gave the Hobbit a sharp hunting knife and crouched by Fili's wounded leg. He grabbed the hilt of Fili's dagger and pulled it slowly out of the mangled boot. Fili hissed and his body grew tense, but Celegorm did not stop until the knife came out broken and bloodied. Celegorm picked up his own knife and twisted himself in a position that allowed him to cut Fili's boot off.

"Damn, you have some sturdy boots!" he muttered, struggling to tear though the thick leather. "But your iron-capped footwear might just have saved your leg. I wonder, do you Dwarves also wear iron underwear? Especially the young, handsome ones."

Bilbo saw a tiny smile tugging Fili's lips, while his brother glared daggers at the Elf's back.

"This will hurt a bit, I'm sorry," Celegorm said as he pulled the ruined boot off. He took no notice of Fili's twitching and sliced through the Dwarf's pants, all the way up to the makeshift tourniquet. But the Elf did breathe a sigh of relief when he finished exposing the injured limb. "Well, it could have been a lot worse."

Bilbo didn't even want to imagine what 'worse' meant. What he saw made his head swim badly enough. Fili's calf bore a deep gash and the tip of his dagger still stood out from it. Below the Dwarf's knee, jagged-edged bones poked out from under his skin and lower, there was a hideous, tumefied lump, where Bilbo thought the bones were also broken.

"How was he injured? Did you see it?" Celegorm asked Bilbo.

"He...uh...he took a blow from the pale orc's mace."

"Aaah, the mace," Celegorm bared his teeth in a cold smile. "You'll be happy to know that mace went through Azog's body and came out full of his guts on the other side. Fili was fortunate, though. A little higher and his knee-cap would have been smashed. A little lower and there would be no more ankle to speak of. It is well that this young Dwarf carries so many knives on his person. One of them saved his leg."

"Can you fix it?" Kili whispered. "I think he's asleep now."

"I need to make a cut from here to here," Celegorm pointed from below Fili's knee to just below the ugly-looking lump."I've got to take out bone splinters if there are any, set the bones back in position and stitch your brother back up. Strong stomach and hot water, Bilbo. The faster we do this, the better."

In all honesty, Bilbo kept himself together by the skin of his teeth, wanting to get up and run away more than once. He prayed that the Elves' hands were steadier than his, as he saw them cut and pry flesh apart, bent over Fili's sleeping form.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Celegorm said, breaking the tense silence. "Remember when I fell off my horse that one time and father found me on the beach, hip shattered and everything?"

"Uh...no?" Curufin smirked. "I don't believe I was born at the time."

"Right," Celegorm said. He tossed a bit of bone away, fat splatters of blood staining the ground at his side.

"But I do know the tale. All big, dumb blonds must fall off their horses at some point or another. Of course, since you're the biggest, dumbest blond in existence, you had to be thrown off a cliff and smashed yourself to pieces," Curufin grinned. Bilbo thought it was a gruesome sight, while the Elf's bloodied hands held open the cut in Fili's leg. But he said nothing, merely poured some more water when instructed to.

"Well, you would have all been rid of a nuisance," Celegorm rolled his eyes. "But no such luck. My dog ran all the way home and brought father to me. Káno too. He said he emptied his stomach at the sight of me."

"Ah, yes, that mutt of yours. He lever left your side and slept in your room while you recovered."

"He always slept in my room. Mother wasn't very pleased when I got him, but it did keep me from forcing Carnistir into pretending he was puppy."

Both Elves chuckled but their hands never stilled, finally clearing the wound of all debris. Celegorm's brow furrowed in concentration as he re-aligned Fili's bones.

"Damnit! I forgot about splinters. And did this have to happen when we're on the top of these gods damned mountains?! Bilbo, leave the kettle and cut some bandages out of my cloak. About this wide," the Elf pointed with his bloody palm. "Quickly, I'll be closing the gash now and I need to stop the bleeding."

Bilbo used his sword to slash the Elven cloak, feeling a bit sorry for the ruin of such wondrous fabric. But the Elves had picked up their tale about broken bones and nosy pets.

"Do you know what the worst part of being guarded all the time was? I got absolutely no privacy. People came to see me while I recovered. _Lady friends_ as well. And there my dog stood, growling at them if they dared so much as take my hand! One day we tricked him to run outside, my lady friend and I. But he charged back and tore the door down. I believe he thought me to be ailing, when, in fact, I was being _comforted_," Celegorm smirked. "Well, I might have been a bit vocal about it, but that didn't mean the dog needed to bite my friend's head off..."

"Hahaha, I remember Káno's tale about this. Although, the way I recall it, your lady friend wasn't exactly a lady," Curufin chuckled.

"Shut up! We're trying to distract people here, not gross them out."

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you. They already know you're a creepy little pervert."

"I am not _little_!" Celegorm protested, eying Kili with laughter in his eyes.

The young Dwarf's eyes shifted and he grimaced, unsure if he should laugh or run away screaming.

"Are you... is the moral of this story how I'm... like your dog? Always hovering around my brother protectively?" he said uncertainly.

"Oh no, you're not at all like my dog. He was much better looking," Celegorm grinned.

Bilbo barely held back a chuckle when he saw Kili's indignant look. If there was anything at hand to throw and if Celegorm weren't busy stitching Fili's leg, Bilbo was certain Kili would have chucked something at his impertinent head.

"What was your dog's name?" he found himself asking, knowing full well that Celegorm had been talking about Huan, the famous hound.

Both Elves gave Bilbo hard looks from the corner of their eyes.

"His name was... Bard," Celegorm said. "I called him that to annoy my musician brother and it was very fitting. They both yowled through the house at the most inappropriate of times."

_Of course_, Bilbo smiled to himself. He was growing more and more convinced that those Elves would have a lie at the ready even in their sleep.

"I'm done," Celegorm sliced the little bit of remaining thread and rinsed his hands. He asked Curufin to loosen the tourniquet and fresh blood trickled down Fili's calf. Celegorm soaked a strip of his cloak and cleaned Fili's leg as best as he could, before plastering long leaves all over the stitches. "I'll have to clean this regularly and keep it splintered tight until the bones weld themselves back together. I'll see with Master Oin about some salve to stave off infection. But, like I said, it could have been much worse."

"Thank you," Kili murmured. He clutched his brother closer and brushed his forehead. "He's so cold!"

"He has lost a lot of blood. We'll need to keep him warm, especially in this windswept place. Just let me finish bandaging him."

Bilbo handed Celegorm the make-shift bandages when the Elf asked for them and with Curufin's help, he splintered Fili's leg using the scabbards of their blades. When wood became available, they would have to improvise something better, but for the time being, the Elves had done all they could. Kili thanked them again, some color beginning to return in his cheeks, but he was still very reluctant to let his bother go when Celegorm tried to pick him up.

"What are you doing? Where do you mean to take him?"

Celegorm rose slowly, holding the sleeping Dwarf as gently as he could.

"You see that nest over there?"

Both Bilbo and Kili gaped when they realized what the Elf had in mind. In an alcove not far from them, one of the eagles sat in her nest, eying them as though _she_ had guessed their purpose as well.

"You've got to be joking...," Kili murmured, tugging the Elf's sleeve. "You can't..."

"It's the warmest and most sheltered place there is. Don't worry, the eagle won't sit on your brother, but she will cover him from the wind. And I'll be right there with him."

"Me too!" Kili scrambled after Celegorm, leaving Bilbo to stare in wonder.

Then, the Hobbit's eyes fell on the bloodied ground and Fili's torn boot. Bilbo picked it up and walked toward the fire the others had gathered around. He was shivering and his teeth had begun to chatter, cold and shock finally catching up with him.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Apparently telling my muses that I would take a break from updating sent them into chatty mode and suddenly, three more chapters turned up. Which means that I shall likely continue to update daily until the end of "Always trust an Elf".**

* * *

11

As morning passed and the winds changed direction, the eagles' ledge became more comfortable for its unusual guests. Most of them, both Elves and Dwarves sat around the camp fire they'd improvised from wood the eagles had collected for them. They guarded the fire carefully, but even more so the mutton roasting above it on a makeshift spit. That too, the eagles had provided for the famished company, risking the arrows from homesteads down below.

Some of the more hale Dwarves had taken to preparing the food while the others needed tending to a multitude of injuries. Thorin's chest was a massive bruise that made it difficult for him to breathe properly and he'd allowed Dori to apply some salve over the worst of it. Wrapped up tightly, he sat by the fire, propped against Dwalin's side. Although he was much less frantic than before, Bilbo could still see Thorin glancing over to the nest his unconscious nephew had been tucked into. He'd been told that Fili would not wake for quite some time and rest was the best relief for him. Still, Thorin worried and he was not the only one. Fili's leg had been mended but the threat of infection remained.

By the time Bilbo's mouth began to water (although he had doubted such a thing were possible when looking at the bloody carcass the twins were skinning), Fëanor too surfaced from wherever he'd gone to brood. Bilbo saw him stop to inspect what Celegorm was doing - scraping bits of fat and flesh from the sheep skin for purposes he had not mentioned - and then the Elf walked over to the fire, sitting in the spot that Ori vacated for him. Fëanor motioned the young Dwarf to sit back down and threw a fold of his cloak over his shoulders.

Bilbo saw Thorin shifting, looking at the Elf, his jaw working as though it were difficult for him to speak. Fëanor caught on and made a silencing motion with his hand.

"I should not have shouted at you, Thorin. I was not myself at the time. My apologies," he nodded briefly in Thorin's direction. "But it needed to be done, if we were ever to stop being hunted. It wasn't even my kill, my sons took down your enemy. Make no further mention of it."

Thorin's jaw tightened further. It had sounded more like a dismissal than an apology and angry fire played in the Dwarf's eyes, but he held his tongue and Bilbo saw more than one of his companions eye each other with surprise. But the moment passed and everyone tuned their attention to more urgent matters when Bofur declared the mutton roasted enough.

They took some food over to Fili and Kili and even in a semi-conscious state, Fili nibbled on a few morsels and drank the broth that Bombur had made for him. Fortunately, he had not broken into a fever and he managed a chuckle when Kili told him he made quite a furry little hatchling. Above them, the eagle made some soft sounds and preened her feathers.

After they were all fed and afternoon had fallen over the eastern lands of the world, the company debated whether or not to depart right away. Gandalf had secured the Eagle Lord's promise to bear them all as far as the Carrock, but no further. It was dangerous business even for the great eagles to venture too close to the homesteads of men, because they were feared and men shot them to defend their livestock. That meant both good news and bad news for the company. Good because they would hopefully come across a farm to resupply and bad because they still had some way to go from the river, with thoughts of Fili's injury in mind. That same injury and Celegorm's insistence that Fili should not be moved yet, made them opt for spending the night high up in the eyrie, bunched up against the cold night as best as they could manage. But very few in the company grumbled, for they needed rest more than anything else. As Bilbo himself had said, they'd had too many brushes with death one after the other. Huddling together like furry little hatchlings beneath the watchful eyes of the great eagles would just have to do as a breather.

By dawn, Fili woke in pain intense enough to bring tears in his eyes and Kili paced from one of his companions to the other in such worry that he risked stepping off the ledge in his distraction. Thorin gabbed his nephew and forced him to sit still while Fili grit his teeth and allowed himself to be examined. Bilbo offered the young Dwarf some leftover stew laced with milk of the poppy, while Oin and Celegorm put salve and fresh bandages on the injured leg. It was red and still swollen and made for a terrible sight, but neither the Dwarf nor the Elf could detect any signs of infection. Picking Fili up and holding him on the back of an eagle would be very painful business and, given the length of the flight, it was in his best interest to sleep once more.

For his part, Bilbo felt just as apprehensive about flying as the morning before, but, with no immediate danger to flee from and secured against Maedhros, the Hobbit made it through the journey with nerves slightly less frayed. The Elf pointed out landmarks and told Bilbo what he knew about them. In daylight, Mirkwood appeared even wider, a dark-green sea unwilling to part for anyone. The Old Forest Road lay to the south, but Maedhros could not say if their journey would take the company along that path. Counsel would need to be taken, but a more immediate destination appeared when the river grew closer and the eastern bank could be seen in greater detail.

Roughly a day's march from the Carrock and somewhat southward, Bilbo though the saw patches of yellow and green and somewhere in their midst, the roof of a house. Maedhros described the homestead in greater detail than Bilbo could perceive and said that they would go there soon. Gandalf, however, had mentioned that the woodman who's good will and hospitality they were seeking might not be too delighted to take in such a large company. Counsel would be needed on how to approach the house as well, but until then, the Elf said what he most desperately needed was a bath.

The eagles set Thorin and Balin and Ganalf and Fëanor down atop the formidable island called the Carrock. The others were deposited on the eastern bank of the Anduin, near the place where the great river could be forded easily across a stony path. A stairway cut by ancient hands into the face of the island lead all the way to the top of the Carrock, where a large view opened in every direction. Bilbo presumed that their leaders were up there to take in the lay of the land and discuss important matters, while down by the river, the rest of the company gave the eagles their thanks. Bilbo smiled as he witnessed an odd, seemingly one-sided conversation between Celegorm and three of the great birds.

"That is nothing," Maedhros whispered in Bilbo's ear. "You should have seen him surrounded by chicken and holding conference with them as a child," the Elf grinned. Then, before Bilbo could even think of a reply, Maedhros was tossing weapons and items of clothing off is person, making for the river with the rest of his brothers.

"I don't suppose any of these nancing faeries have a care for securing camp first," Dwalin grumbled after them. He and Bifur and Gloin took to the matter seriously, while Dori helped Kili set his brother down in as comfortable position as possible. Fili began to stir and Bilbo ran to his side, thinking to offer the poor Dwarf some water. Sadly, there was not much else and the question of supper had been on the Hobbit's mind for some time, but he made no mention of it.

For a while, they sat and watched the Elves swim and splash and shout at each other. Amrod cut several rods from a nearby bush and sharpened them into spears. He motioned his brothers to quit making such a commotion and walk or swim upstream, if they wanted anything to eat. More than one Dwarf laughed at the fishing... or hunting expedition, watching the Elves' rather unsuccessful attempts to spear fish. Half naked, with hair hanging wet and the crude weapons in their hands, they looked like proper savages.

"Well bless me, I never thought I'd see Elves like that," Bofur chuckled. "The only ones I ever glimpsed were eerie and shimmering and solemn, like walking statues. Even in Rivendell, you didn't see them act up like these lads. It's strange, they're like... I don't know, like real people."

"I think they _are_ real people," Fili replied. "Look, they got one," he smiled weakly at the sight of Caranthir holding up a fairly big catch. "Maybe we won't go hungry after all."

"Eh, they're fairly useful, despite the fact that they all look like plucked chicken," Gloin said, shaking his head and smirking in his beard.

"Shame we can't eat them like chicken... can we?" Dwalin replied, his deadpan expression sending the Dwarves into gales of laughter.

Fortunately, the _plucked chicken_ in question managed to spear a fair amount of fish to save themselves from a cruel fate. Celegorm and Curufin ran back to camp to fetch something that could be used to carry the catch and the blond noticed that Fili had woken. He crouched by Fili's side and felt his forehead for fever.

"Not too warm. Good," Celegorm let out a relieved breath. "Ugh, I reek of fish, sorry," he snatched his hand back, smiling apologetically.

As he sat back up, the Elf seemed to realize he wasn't wearing much and the Dwarves were gawking.

"Smooth as a baby's bottom, I know," Celegorm said, motioning to his fair skin. "It's odd. I used to have more scars than this as a child and now... they've all been wiped clean. But I'll always carry my wounds and my scars in here," the Elf tapped his temple.

"That explains a lot," Curufin smirked behind his brother.

Before he could even think of dodging it, Curufin got hit with a washcloth full on.

"Damnit, Turko, you did not just throw your underwear in my face!" he growled.

"No, but I can go fetch it, if you like," Celegorm eyed him pointedly.

"Peace, bother dearest, I did not wish to interrupt your _'all shall love me and despair_' pose, forgive me."

Celegorm rolled his eyes and barked something obviously unflattering in the High Tongue. Then, he smiled gently in Fili's direction and took off, picking up a cloak as he went. Curufin pelted after him, trying to salvage his cloak from turning into a fish net.

...

It had begun to grow dark by the time the whole company gathered, had some supper and saw about washing off many days of chase and battle. Flying across more than half of the Anduin valley had somewhat made up for the delays and detours of the Misty Mountains. Not even Thorin could argue against setting camp not far from the river and continuing the journey in the morning, when the Elves said they would finish fashioning a harness for Fili out of the sheep pelt.

Unsurprisingly, Celegorm had volunteered to carry Fili on his back and would not take any bashfulness or refusal for an answer. And as they had all settled for the night, he fussed around the poor Dwarf, helping him clean up and sit comfortably and eat and drink. Fili endured it all with a small smile but Bilbo could tell his brother had begun to be fed up with it.

"Uh, so… Listen. Do you have a crush on my brother or what?" Kili fidgeted uncomfortably, casting the Elf a doubtful look.

Bilbo could see that Kili did not fancy the way Celegorm fawned over his injured brother, although Fili had shown nothing but thankfulness for it. Even as he lay on his bedroll, half-asleep on milk of the poppy, Fili smiled, allowing Celegorm to undo his braids and comb his long fingers through his hair.

"Do I… what?" the Elf laughed softly. "A crush, hmm? I wouldn't call it that."

"Well, what is it, then?"

"Let me see. I find you and your brother both excellent and admirable companions. You're so full of life and funny and I know you're both grown Dwarves, but still, I can't help feeling… protective of you. I've come to care about you and your brother. Well, perhaps a bit more for him," Celegorm brushed the back of his fingers over Fili's eyebrow tenderly. "He's… do you know what a lion is?"

"What? A lion… I've heard tales about lions from southerners that traveled along the Greenway. They said lions are huge cats with shaggy manes that hunt people in the countries far south where the sun always burns and the men have black skin. But what does that have to do with anything?" Kili's brow furrowed.

"It doesn't. Just… Fili is like a little lion to me," the Elf petted Fili's hair. "He even has the mane of one. You're both fierce like lions, but I worry for you all the same."

Kili's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he chewed on his lower lip for a moment. Celegorm's explanation didn't seem to make any more sense to him than it did to Bilbo.

"Alright," the young Dwarf said at last. "But… do you think you could stop touching him so much? It's bloody creepy!"

Celegorm's snatched his hand back, giving Fili's brother a surprised look.

"I'm sorry. I meant only to comfort…," the Elf sat up, shaking his head. "Excuse me, there's something I have to see to."

Before Kili could say anything, Celegorm had walked away and joined his brothers by the fire-side.

"Well done, brother," Fili groaned, cracking one eye open. "You sure screwed that up."

"You're awake?!"

"Kind of. Awake enough to see you stick your foot in your mouth again. Why'd you have to say that to him?"

"Because he's creepy!" Kili hissed.

"You think so, huh?"

"Yes, I do! You shouldn't let him feel you up so much, that simply isn't done!" Kili said, leaning closer to his brother.

"Aaah, you don't get it, do you?" Fili sighed.

"What? What don't I get?"

"You're being stupid, Kili, talking about crushes and whatnot. Think about it… what are we to these Elves? We're a blink of an eye in their long lives. We're like children to them. I think Celegorm is like the lions he was speaking of. He's the lion and we're the cubs he's come across in the wild. He's defending us and feeding us and grooming us…"

"He's grooming _you_!" Kili pointed out.

"Well, he might groom you too if you weren't so filthy and had the manners of a porcupine!"

Bilbo had to hide his grin behind one palm at that.

"Alright, alright, fine! I'll go get you your mother-lion back," Kili huffed.

Fili grabbed his brother's arm, wincing a little when the movement jolted his injured leg.

"Don't be so paranoid," Fili said.

"I… I can't help it. I worry for you too," Kili replied softly. "But, if it makes you feel better to be petted by an Elf, I'll go get him."

"It doesn't make me feel any worse, if you must know. And really, anything is better than thinking about how much my leg hurts and how I am slowing everybody down."

Kili lowered his eyes and said nothing, giving his brother's arm a gentle squeeze. He went in search of the Elf and sent him back a few moments later, with a goblet of steaming tea. Celegorm helped Fili sit up and propped him against a pile of rolled up blankets, helping him drink and laughing with him as though the previous exchange had never taken place.


	12. Chapter 12

12

The end of July sun rose early and bright on a camp already full of bustling Elves and Dwarves. According to Gandalf, they still had a long way to go before reaching the homestead they had seen the day before, and the going promised to be slow beneath the hot summer sun. Before them, the land stretched in rolling hillocks covered with tall grasses. The traces of a path could be seen going from the foot of the Carrock and into the grasslands, but it was overgrown with vegetation and would not make the advance any easier.

After something that no self-respecting Hobbit would ever call breakfast, they all shouldered their meager belongings and gathered anxiously around Fili. The young Dwarf was still in a world of pain and his caretakers eyed their milk of the poppy supply with anxiousness. There was very little of it left and before long, Fili would either have to be given something else or he would do without. Fili himself was more than a little terrified as he studied the contraption Celegorm held out before him. While the others had slept or sifted the grasses for edible plants, the Elf had fashioned a harness from strips of sheep skin and belts he had collected from his siblings. It did not look like much and smelled even worse, for there had been no salt on hand to tan the hide, but it would have to do.

"I will try to carry you as smoothly as I can. If it's intolerable, we'll stop at the line of trees," Celegorm motioned behind himself, "We will make a pallet but I think you will be jostled worse if two of us have to carry you."

"When Turko tires, we can bear you for a while, either on our backs or like this," Amrod said, motioning his brother to help him make a seat out of their linked hands. Both held onto each other's wrists and showed Fili what they meant, but it would make for a less comfortable trip and Fili would have to exert a lot of energy holding onto them.

The young Dwarf looked from one Elf to the other, thanking them uncertainly. They gave him some camomile tea and waited for the drug in it to take effect before slipping the makeshift harness onto him and hoisting Fili up. His leg was much better splintered than it had been to begin with, but it still tore a moan from Fili's gritted teeth when Celegorm's arm slipped under it. The Elf tottered and for a heart-stopping moment they all thought he was going to lose his balance, but Celegorm righted himself and took a deep breath. His brothers secured the harness buckles across Celegorm's chest and adjusted Fili into the most bearable position, but the Dwarf had Celegorm's neck in a choke-hold for quite some time before he relaxed and realized he would not slip.

Once the delicate operation was completed, they put out the embers of their fire and set out in single file, with Gandalf and Thorin at the fore. Bilbo kept close to Kili and Fili, carrying a flask full of water to refresh the injured Dwarf and Celegorm as well. Between himself and Kili, the two carried both Celegorm's and Fili's weapons and Bilbo could not help a smile when he noted the reverence Kili had for the Elf's longbow. In front of them and behind, Amrod and Amras tread the grass so lightly that no sign of their passing could be seen, but Celegorm's footsteps were much heavier. Still, the Elf did not complain and he walked with a smile on his face, although sweat had begun to bead on his brow as morning gave way to a sweltering day.

"Can you still carry him?" Kili gave Celegorm an anxious look as they ascended a grassy knoll.

"Yes, and for a good while still. He doesn't weigh quite so much, your brother. Not after you removed his entire arsenal and armor."

Fili laughed softly and propped his chin on Celegorm's shoulder.

"I've got to say, this really isn't as bad as I feared. But I really hate inconveniencing you like this and being such a burden," he said.

"Oh, hush! None of that now, it can't be helped. Besides, I've had it rougher as a pony in my time," Celegorm told him.

"I sense another dirty joke coming on," Amras snickered behind them.

"No, you dolt. I was referring to the times when you and your brother used to bicker and clamber on my shoulders and use my braids for reins. Do you remember that?"

"Of course, although it didn't make you run faster when we kicked you in the ribs," Amrod grinned over his shoulder.

"And I did not throw you off like any sensible horse would have."

"No, you were a very good horse. Much better than the ponies atar let us ride on. Although sometimes, I think you smelled worse," Amras said, taking full advantage of how his brother could not retaliate in any immediate way.

"Actually, we were thinking about making reins out of your braids again this morning. And using one of Fili's knives for a bit, but apparently, Fili thought he'd have no problem steering you," Amrod teased.

"You know, Kili," Celegorm turned to the snickering young Dwarf. "You're lucky you don't have any younger brothers. Means you don't get to magnanimously put up with crap like this."

"No, but that doesn't mean Fili won't make up for it," Kili leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face. His smile softened when he saw Fili nodding off, his forehead pressed against the back of Celegorm's head. The Elf had collected his hair in a single braid that dangled over his shoulder and could perhaps be used as a whip, if not reins. But Bilbo kept that observation to himself.

"I'm not sure it's alright for him to be sleeping so much," Kili whispered.

"He shouldn't, but until we can stay in one place longer and I can get some basic supplies to look after his wound, we're lucky we still have some milk of the poppy. It's not enough to give him an addiction, don't worry. I only wish we had that much on us," Celegorm told him. "It's the heat that worries me right now, but thus far, your brother has been living proof of how strong Dwarves are. I do, however, have one small problem. His whiskers are tickling me something fierce," the Elf grinned.

...

By evening, they had come a long way from the river, but still the land was wild and they had not gotten near enough to the woodman's homestead. Hungry and thirsty and exhausted from the heat, they had to call it a day much sooner than Thorin would have liked, but even he sat in the shade of some pea-shrubs and let Dori remove his sodden bandages. Fortunately for the Dwarf, whatever healing Gandalf had performed on him had left mere bruises behind. Unfortunately for Fili, the wizard had declared his extensive hurts beyond his power to heal.

As he lay on the grass and inhaled the sweet scent of little yellow flowers hanging above him, Bilbo tried to muster some energy and help the others. Bofur and Bombur were plucking a pair of geese that the Elves had shot and Kili had gotten a decent sized rabbit with his own little bow at some point. Bilbo took out his pocket-knife and sat down at Bofur's side, trying to make something of the roots the company had collected for stew. Ori had picked up a handful of nettles, saying the stew would be very good for Fili, and he was picking the stinging plants apart when Fëanor joined them with two pots full of water from a nearby stream. The Elf wished to help with the cooking, but Bofur shooed him away.

"No, no, we've got this. You just go and rest, I don't even remember the last time I saw you do that. Besides, aren't you growing tired of looking after us?" the Dwarf asked, his cheeky smile showing that he meant no offense.

"Well... it _is_ a bit of a thankless job, but somebody's got to do it," Fëanor gave Bofur a lopsided grin, patting the Dwarf's shoulder.

Neither of them saw Thorin walking over to them until he touched Fëanor's arm.

"It's not a thankless job," he said gruffly. "I am not thankless."

"I ... It was a joke, Thorin," Fëanor turned to face the Dwarf. "I did not mean to imply that... I have not joined your company for anyone to sing me praises. Aaargh, this isn't coming out right. Listen," he dropped to one knee before Thorin.

"No, you listen. I am... let us just say that _please_ and _thank you_ and _I am sorry_ are not words that come easily off my lips, but that does not mean I am not grateful for everything you've done for us."

"I never thought otherwise. And I do owe you an apology for meddling in your affairs so much, to the point of hunting down enemies of yours I had no business pursuing."

Thorin grimaced and waved Fëanor's words off impatiently.

"_Make no further mention of it_, is that not what you said? It's done, thank you, the world is much cleaner now that it's been rid of that filth and it does not matter who did it. I am sorry I gave you grief about it."

"That's... two of three things you find hard to say and yet here you are, standing before me unharmed," Fëanor cocked his head and smirked.

"Hmm?" the Dwarf's eyes narrowed. "Well, here's the third. Could you _please_ not do that anymore?"

"Do what?" Fëanor's eyebrows rose and his smirk broadened.

"Could you please stop kneeling before me as though I am a child? I understand you're tall and everything, but I'm fine craning my neck, thank you very much."

"Save me from the sensibilities of Dwarves!" Fëanor chuckled. "That is one offense I didn't even dream you'd take. But fine, have it your way," he rose, giving Thorin an amused look. "Can I still sit around you, or is that unacceptable as well?"

Thorin sighed and gave him a weary look, motioning Fëanor to join him by Fili's side. Behind them, Bofur laughed quietly.

"I take it that means their Majesties have kissed and made up, huh?"

Bilbo shrugged and returned his attention to the wild carrots he was trying to peel. He sniffed the flowers to make sure the Elves hadn't mistaken them for something poisonous and then applied himself to the task.

...

A faint rustle woke Bilbo from his sleep. He passed a hand over his face and looked about himself in confusion. Immediately, a dark shape loomed over him and one of the Elven twins motioned him to be quiet, forefinger pressed against his lips.

Bilbo turned and saw Celegorm stalking toward the copse of trees at their back. The shrubs rustled and Bilbo thought he could hear faint snuffling sounds. Something was out there and the Elven hunters crept closer to investigate. Between their crouched forms, Bilbo could descry a smaller shape - Kili, with his bow in hand - moving slowly so as to not alert whatever shuffled behind the bushes.

Curiosity won over his initial alarm and Bilbo started after them without any thought to picking a weapon for himself. Up ahead, the rustling grew louder and Bilbo heard the deep grunt of a large animal. Behind him, the entire camp began to stir.

Catching up with his silent companions, Bilbo crept under the shrubs and put a hand over his mouth before surprise gave away his position. He saw an enormous black bear swaying on its hind legs and sniffing the air in the direction of their camp. Celegorm moved toward the beast slowly and, to Bilbo's astonishment, he laid his bow down in the grass.

"Don't shoot!" the Elf whispered and motioned his brothers to stand down. But Bilbo saw their bows pulled taut. Kili also had an arrow nocked as he watched Celegorm with an incredulous expression.

But Celegorm continued to creep closer. He held his hands at his sides, palms open, and Bilbo thought he saw his lips moving, although no actual words made it past them. The bear rose to its full height and issued a deep growl. Celegorm stopped his advance and the two eyed each other warily, standing still. At his side, Bilbo felt one of the Elves shifting impatiently and his bow creaked.

"What is this?" Fëanor hissed, suddenly bursting through the bushes and startling Bilbo badly. "Turko!" he called out to his son anxiously.

"Shhh, no! Don't move!" Celegorm shot his father a quick glance. But he had to focus on the animal before him when the black bear dropped on all fours and moved toward him. "No, wait!" the blond urged the others to stay their weapons, holding very still as the bear sniffed him.

"Damned show-off is trying to get himself mauled!" Amrod muttered under his breath.

"I don't think... I don't feel this bear means to harm me," Celegorm said. " But I can't reach it. I can't talk to it, atar!" his voice wavered slightly as the bear began circling him. "It's almost as if..."

Celegorm faltered and shot an astonished look over his shoulder when he heard the bear growling savagely. It had sniffed the Elf's tunic and all of a sudden, it rose on its hind legs with an ear-splitting roar. Before Celegorm could even think to jump out of the way, the bear's claws tore across his back in one heavy blow. Celegorm fell on the grass with a shocked scream, but he manged to twist himself just in time to see the enraged animal as it reared itself to charge him.

"Shoot it! Take it down!" Fëanor shouted and sprang forward almost as fast as the arrows flying around him. All three found their mark and the bear let out a terrible roar, dropping back on all fours where Celegorm had scrambled out of the way a moment before. The grass was dark and it glistened wetly there, but the Elf had regained his feet and he waved his hands frantically, shouting "No, no!" at this father.

But it was all happening too fast and Bilbo forgot to breathe as he watched Fëanor's desperate charge. Screaming savagely himself, the Elf jumped on the wounded beast and plunged his knife to the hilt between the bear's ribs. He sprang away as the beast roared in agony, rearing its massive body to shake off the attacker.

Ignoring Celegorm's frantic protesting, Fëanor pulled him out of the way, groaning in dismay when Celegorm's blood splattered onto him.

"WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?" Gandalf shouted.

Suddenly, everyone was there, watching wide-eyed as the bear swayed on its hind-legs, beating the air with its paws. Red foam dribbled from its muzzle and Bilbo saw Kili's arrow sticking from the beast's neck. The bear spun haltingly, searching for its attackers with unseeing eyes. It fell back on all fours, the rumbling roars growing weaker. Fëanor's knife must have pierced its heart and the bear stepped on the bloody blade the Elf had dropped in his retreat.

"What have you done?!" Gandalf cried out and Bilbo gaped at him, disbelieving the wizard's plaintive tone. "Valar, what have you done?" the wizard moaned, rushing toward the dying bear.

With the corner of his eye, Bilbo caught Celegorm clutching his father's tunic in both hands and hiding his pain-twisted face in Fëanor's shoulder. The Elf's back was in tatters, five deep gashes soaking his clothes dark with blood. Bilbo took a deep breath through his nose and tore his eyes away, but before him, something unbelievable was happening.

Gandalf crouched before the dying beast as the bear collapsed, its limbs twitching. It gave one last shuddering growl and then fell silent, moving no more. Gandalf muffled a dismayed cry behind one palm and touched the bear's muzzle with the other. Suddenly, the bear's fur began to shift as though something were crawling under its hide. The whole bulky shape moved, shrank in on itself and the black fur gradually disappeared. The bear's paws morphed into human legs and arms and the claws receded into thick-fingered hands.

Bilbo heard Fili calling out to them, but nobody stirred, not while the black bear turned into a man before their disbelieving eyes. He was huge, his limbs covered in coarse hair, black like his wild hair and his long beard. But he lay there dead, pierced with arrows, the hide he wore over his broad chest covered in blood.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I've changed the story rating from K+ to T because I think the abundance of blood in the latest chapters demands it.**

* * *

13

"What on earth did we shoot?" one of the Elven twins walked over to Gandalf hesitantly.

The wizard knelt on the blood-stained grass, his eyes closed and his hand still on the dead man's cheek. By Bilbo's side, Kili dropped his bow, giving the Hobbit a wide-eyed look.

Gandalf let out a deep sigh and his shoulders slumped further.

"His name was Beorn," the wizard said, closing the man's empty eyes.

"What?" Amrod whispered. "You knew... this creature?"

"This _creature _was the man who's home we meant to seek shelter and provisions from," the wizard replied bitterly. "What in Eru's name happened here?! Why did you kill him?"

"This thing meant to kill my son!" Fëanor answered gruffly, still holding onto a shaking Celegorm.

Gandalf's head snapped in their direction and Bilbo saw his face falling further.

"I don't understand," he shook his head. "Beorn would not attack someone who is not an enemy without cause. What did you do?!" he raised his voice, seemingly uncaring about Celegorm's injury.

"Nothing. I...," the blond turned toward his attacker and cringed when he saw that it was no longer a beast. "Oh, Valar... that explains why I could not speak to it... I came here because I heard some shuffling close to our camp and I thought I should see what the matter was. I wanted to make the bear leave without trouble, but...," Celegorm faltered.

"The beast charged him and would have killed my son if we were not here. Look at him!" Fëanor growled, pointing at Celegorm's back. "What more explanations do you want?!"

"I tried to tell him we meant no harm, but I couldn't get through. There was nothing...," Celegorm's breath hitched and he shook his head, bloody strands of hair falling over his shoulder. "I didn't know it was a man, I've never come across anything like this before... But it did not come here to attack us, that much I could tell. I sensed no fear from it and no aggression, so I got close enough to let it sniff me. And then... it just went mad."

"Impossible," Gandlaf muttered. "There must have been something that set him off."

"He speaks the truth! Tyelkormo has done nothing to provoke this man... when he was still a bear. I saw it with my own eyes!" Kili sprang from his spot, shouting as he walked up to the wizard. "We didn't know the bear was a man or that you knew him. I am sorry, but stop yelling at Tyelkormo and help him, he's wounded!"

Planted firmly on his feet, Kili glared angrily at the wizard, until Gandalf lowered his head with a sigh. Celegorm issued a soft yelp when Maedhros ran up to him and touched his shoulder.

"Come on, we've got to look at this," Maedhros tried to steer his brother back to the camp, but Celegorm would not move. Like the youngest of his brothers, he stared at Beorn with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow on his face.

"I don't understand," Celegorm whispered. "Why did it attack?"

"It doesn't matter now. Please come with me, we have to take care of these wounds before you bleed to death," Maedhros pulled on Celegorm's sleeve.

"I won't bleed to death, it's not that bad," Celegorm waved him off. "Wait!" his eyes shifted from the dead man to his own clothes. "Wait... I think I know what happened here."

Fëanor made to forcefully remove his son and have him looked after, but Celegorm motioned him to be still.

"This man... your friend, Gandalf... do you know if he keeps any sheep?" he asked the wizard.

"Well, I haven't been in these parts for a long while, but... Yes, I believe he does. He _did_. Beorn kept all manner of animals and he was very fond of them. Never ate any meat and loved his animals as though they were his own children. Oh, no!" Gandalf groaned, closing his eyes.

"The sheep the eagles caught for us. It was probably one of his. I'm covered in the smell of it after handling the pelt for so long. The bear... this man, he must have thought I had killed his animal and small wonder he attacked me in a rage. I can't command a man in bear shape to do my will. I am sorry."

"What are you apologizing for? You've done nothing wrong. Turkafinwë, go with your brothers this instant!" Fëanor nudged his son. "It could not be avoided. What's done is done. It is regrettable, but you can't fault us for defending ourselves," he gave Gandalf a hard look.

"Curufinwë is right," Bilbo heard Thorin say as the Dwarf stepped closer to them. "We're all at fault here, although unknowingly We've all eaten from that sheep. Come on, lad," he touched Celegorm's hand gingerly. "You're bleeding now because you bore my nephew on your back. Can't you hear Fili shouting after us? He won't forgive me if I don't have you looked after."

A tentative smile curved the injured Elf's lips. He nodded and let Maedhros lead him away. Caranthir and Curufin followed, speaking to each other in angry Elvish whispers.

"What do we do about him?" Amras crouched by the dead man but hesitated to touch him, wary of whatever enchantment lay upon him. "We can't leave him here..."

"And we won't," Fëanor said. He had meant to follow Celegorm, but he turned back to Gandalf, a dark frown creasing his brow. "However, first you must tell me, Gandalf, why did you make no mention of what a beast's den you were leading us into? Why did you not tell us that your friend is a shape-shifter or gods know what else? It might have prevented this unfortunate incident from happening."

Bilbo saw the wizard averting his eyes and anger welled up in him as well. If Gandalf had known, why had he not warned them? Could no one in the company be trusted? Did they all have foul plans and hidden intentions to betray each other?

"I meant to tell you in the morning," Gandalf said. "I'm not sure how many of you would have believed the shape-shifting until you'd have seen Beorn with your own eyes. I meant to introduce you to him one or two at a time. I did warn you that even as a man, he is... he _was _not fond of unexpected guests and he would not have welcomed you all gladly. Not without a lot of persuasion and care. I should have guessed he'd come scouting once we got so close to his borders. His death is as much my fault as it is... everyone else's," Gandalf finished with a sigh, giving Fëanor a sad look.

"Are there more of these bear people around?" Thorin asked. "Should we be on our guard for more attacks after this?"

"The woodmen... they are few and far between. Their homesteads lay all along the Anduin valley and on the borders of Mirkwood. Where they roam in bear shape, I cannot tell," the wizard said.

"What about him? Does he have any family?" Fëanor's jaw tightened at the thought.

"Beorn had no mate last I was here, but many years have passed since. I do not know," Gandalf shook his head.

"We will take him to his home and give him a proper burial," Fëanor declared. He picked up his knife and wiped the blade on the grass. "I am sorry this has come to pass and by my own hand no less, but regret will change nothing. We shall have a bier built to carry him on. But first, I must look after my son."

Amrod and Amras turned on their heels and headed back to camp, taking Bilbo and Kili along with them. The Hobbit glanced back over his shoulder and saw Fëanor passing by Thorin. He laid a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder and silent understanding passed between them before they too left the unhappy place. One by one, the entire company left Gandalf alone to mourn after his dead friend.

Back in their small camp, the fire had already been brought back to life and a cauldron was set above the flames. At a word from Thorin, Gloin, Bifur and Dwalin readied their axes, going in search of wood sturdy enough to build a bier for Beorn. All the others hurried to perform some task or another, but nobody spoke, save for Maedhros and Celegorm and Fili beside them.

Bilbo heard the young Dwarf arguing with Celegorm and walked over to them, asking Maedhros if he could be of any help. When the Elf pushed a tattered, bloody piece of garment in his hands, Bilbo wished he'd thought better before offering his assistance.

"Would you please take just a little bit?" Fili insisted, holding out a mug before Celegorm. "And don't say it doesn't hurt so badly, you're as white as a sheet!"

But the Elf shook his head, hands clenched in his lap.

"I'll be fine," Celegorm grunted. "Although my days as a Dwarf pony seem to be over," he tried to smirk but it came out as a strained grimace.

Fili pushed the tankard closer and groaned when he was met with more refusal.

"See if maybe one of your friends has some of that horrible stuff you Dwarves drink stashed somewhere?" Celegorm asked instead. "I could use some of that right now."

"I'll ask for some from Dwalin," Kili declared resolutely. "I'll say it is for you," he added, seeing Fili's doubtful smile.

The young Dwarf set off, his shoulders twitching as a savage growl tore from Celegorm's throat. His brother had begun to clean the gashes across his back.

"Would you stop playing the hero and take some of that drink Fili is giving you? I think he's gotten the picture by now. You're big, you're strong, but you don't have to be stupid and torture yourself," Maedhros sighed.

"No, we've got too little milk of the poppy as it is! I'll be fine. You patched up worse injuries when we had absolutely nothing and I was alright. Just hurry up, damnit!" Celegorm hissed, the muscles in his arms standing out as he tensed and struggled against the pain.

Fili propped himself on his hands and shuffled closer, putting a hand on the Elf's clenched fist.

"Tell me again how exactly do you speak to animals? Do you hear them in your head or do they hear you in theirs or... ?" he asked, urging the distraught Elf to look at him.

Celegorm began to speak and Fili kept distracting him with questions, until the Elf's wounds had been bathed, dressed and wrapped up. Kili returned with a little flask that smelled as though whatever was in it could burn through iron. After taking a hearty swig, Celegorm gagged and sputtered and wheezed and vowed to never again even think it, but the Dwarves talked him into taking another sip before the dangerous substance was taken back to its rightful owner. A little while after, some color returned to Celegorm's cheeks and his eyes took on a shine that would have made Dwalin chuckle at him if he'd seen.

The Elf and Fili were the only ones who slept for what remained of that night. Laid side by side, one on his back and the other on his stomach, they took some substance-induced rest, while Bilbo sat between them in case they woke and needed help. The others busied themselves and spoke in hushed tones as they waited for dawn uneasily. None of them looked forward to what they would find once they took Beorn back to his home.


	14. Chapter 14

14

The funeral procession walked in silence, their spirits low and sinking further as they came closer to Beorn's homestead. Past a line of oak trees there lay a well tended hedge, stretching in a wide arc as far as they could see from the stony path they moved on. At the front, the unfortunate woodman returned to his home on a makeshift bier, carried by four of the Elves. The others filed behind, glancing left and right apprehensively.

Beyond the trees, the whole field to their left hummed under the bustle of countless bees. Bilbo gasped when he saw them rising like a dark cloud above the colorful patches of flowers and the buzzing grew louder. They all froze in their tracks when the living cloud flew straight at them and they noticed just how big the bees were. Brightly colored, their velvety bodies as big as Bilbo's thumb and the stingers longer than his nail, the bees swarmed around them and their buzzing became so loud they could barely hear each other's shouts. If they meant to attack the company, there would be no escape.

But the insects merely landed on their heads and their shoulders, some of them getting tangled in the Dwarves' beards. Bilbo heard someone calling out to Gandalf breathlessly and he meant to do the same, but a bee landed on his nose and it took all the Hobbit's strength to restrain himself from batting it away. Over its ticklish legs and fat body, Bilbo saw the greatest part of the swarm flying above Beorn. Most of the bees landed on the man's body, covering it in a quivering blanket. Long moments ticked by without the slightest movement, as they all watched the insects with trepidation and awe.

Then, as though at a signal, the whole swarm rose into the air and Bilbo thought that the hum of thousands of wings beating the air sounded like a roar. Slack-jawed, he watched the bees fly away in a heavy, dark pall, but they did not return to the field of flowers. Instead, the cloud disappeared around a curve in the hedge and the silence that followed felt deeper, more ominous than before.

"Do you think they know he's dead?" Ori whispered, eyes still rooted to the spot where the bees had slipped out of sight.

"I don't know. But it would be so sad if they did," Bilbo sighed.

He could never have imagined the welcome they received once they filed past the great wooden-gate and carried Beorn into his own courtyard. At first, nothing stirred and the whole company stared about themselves with mournful eyes at the barn and the sheds and the animal shelters lined on both sides of the long courtyard. Up in front, a large wooden house loomed dark and empty even in the high summer sun and from behind it, a flock of geese were the first living creatures to appear.

The Elves set Beorn's bier down and stepped away from it, as the birds approached their master, eying the newcomers anxiously. But they surrounded Beorn and prodded him gently with their beaks, issuing soft sounds and shaking their wings. Bilbo felt a terrible emptiness in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger when Beorn did not answer the happy greeting and one of the geese screamed. Immediately, the others picked it up and the birds flapped their wings, prodding the man harder, jumping on his body, screaming louder and louder, trying desperately to wake him up.

The noise brought out other inhabitants of Beorn's farm. Horses and ponies came out of a wide barn and neighed, beating the ground with their hooves. The company retreated toward the gate, making way for more chicken and ducks running and flying to their master, all of them calling out desperately. Big, grey rabbits scurried past and a fence tore somewhere near the tall hedge, before a stampeding herd of sheep and goats. Dogs barked and scrambled off Beorn's porch, jumping into the mass of agitated animals and howling miserably when Beorn did not stir.

It was a heartbreaking sight that many of Bilbo's friends watched with hands on their mouths. Ori's eyes brimmed with tears and Bilbo saw Bofur wringing his hat in his hands as the animals screamed around their fallen master. Bilbo heard Celegorm moan and turned to see the Elf sitting on the ground, knees pulled up and arms wrapped around his head.

"Make them stop! Make them stop," he cried, rocking back and forth and red splotches blossomed on the bandages that covered his back. "I can't take this anymore! Make them stop..."

It occurred to Bilbo that the Elf could hear much more than the wailing they all cringed against. If Celegorm felt the despair of all those poor beasts, then small wonder he tried to curl in on himself and not even his father could give him any comfort.

How long the mournful spectacle lasted, none could say. But they waited and let the animals call out until their voices broke and their frantic attempts to wake Beorn ceased. Gradually, they drew aside, heads lowered and eyes mournful, leaving only five shaggy dogs to stand by their master and howl from time to time. Nobody could tell whether the animals were dangerous or what they would do if anyone moved. Celegorm sat up, but his eyes were empty and his features downcast and he did not speak when his brothers attempted to coax him out of that state.

Gandalf was the first to break the silence. He spoke some words that perhaps only the Elves could understand, as he stepped toward Beorn, leaning heavily on his staff. The animals gave way and even the dogs slunk back, tails between their legs. But the animals still stood guard, their eyes rooted on the strangers, silent where before they had cried in many voices.

Fëanor whispered something in Thorin's ear and Bilbo saw the Dwarf stepping closer to Celegorm, taking hold of the distraught Elf's arm gently. Amrod and Amras set Fili down on a patch of grass and followed their father through the courtyard. Although apprehensive, they began to collect the animals and herd them back to their pens and sheds. Exhausted and with eyes so sad Bilbo could not bear to look at them, the beasts went without protest.

When the courtyard was emptied, Fëanor searched for the dead man's tools and send his sons to find a place where Beorn could be buried. A short while later, Maglor returned and said that outside the fence, he had found a small enclosure with a few mounds in it. It must have been the burial place for Beorn's predecessors and where he would be laid as soon as they dug a hole big enough to house him in.

Most of the Dwarves went with Maglor, unwilling to linger in Beorn's courtyard and reluctant to step into the man's house. But they set Fili and Celegorm on the front porch, in two big chairs that creaked beneath them. The Elf still had a vacant look about him and Bilbo was told to watch him closely and to shout, in case something went amiss with Celegorm again. As for Fili, he sat quietly and stared into the distance, guilt plainly written on his face when his eyes fell on Beorn's body or the Elf at his side.

Although he was hungry and shaken to the bones, Bilbo dared not enter the big house. Perhaps if Gandalf had stayed with them... but the wizard helped carry Beorn beyond the gate and after a while, Bilbo heard a low murmur rising from somewhere behind the house. It sounded like wordless singing and as they lay perfectly still, Bilbo could discern some of his friend's voices, both Elven and Dwarvish, blending in a heartbreaking dirge. Tears welled in the Hobbit's eyes and slipped down his cheeks when Fili began to chant and Celegorm came back to himself enough to sing softly. A dog began to howl, then another and before long, the voices were drowned in a cacophony of wild cries.

...

"I don't think we should do this," Dwalin muttered under his breath. "We've no business nosing through a man's things when we just laid him in his grave."

"And what do you suggest we do? We need to eat and look after our wounded. I'm going inside to find food," Fëanor said.

"It's not like the dead man needs it anymore," Curufin pushed past his father and opened the heavy timber door.

"You don't have to be such bastards about it!" Dwalin growled, throwing the Elves a dark look.

Fëanor frowned in reply, but turned toward the house and went inside, followed by his sons. Even Celegorm had shaken off his distress, but he was still downcast and silent, moving about stiffly and in obvious discomfort. He walked inside the house and Bilbo hurried after him, while some of the others still argued in hushed voices at the door. But before long, everyone had entered the long hall and some of the shutters were pulled back to reveal the wooden table that stretched from an ample fireplace almost to the door. Left and right, the wooden floor rose in a few steps to platforms where Bilbo could see pelts bunched on the floor.

Everything, from the walls to the pillars to the beams and roof had been carved out of huge tree-trunks and the work was rough, but very sturdy and... massive. Bilbo felt like a puppet that had accidentally slipped out of its dollhouse and into the home of real people. He could only just see over the table if he stood by it and even if he tried to sit on one of the polished logs that served as chairs, he would not be able to reach any food laid on it. Not that there was any food to be seen, save for a large earthen-bowl in the middle of the table that held some seed-cakes in it.

Nobody touched anything as they moved through the house and stepped onto the back-porch. It overlooked a well tended vegetable garden and in it, Maedhros was already picking ripe tomatoes and cucumbers. Behind Bilbo, someone grumbled about how it simply wasn't done, but Bombur and Bifur joined the Elf, finally overcoming their reluctance. They hadn't eaten anything since sundown the day before and with all due respect to the unfortunate man, his goods deserved better than to be left to waste.

Avoiding each other's eyes and steering clear of Gandalf who sat by the fireplace, the Elves and the Dwarves found Beorn's pantry and began to lay food on the table. They brought ale as well, and a honey flavored wine, but cutlery and dishes were more difficult to come by and not enough for the entire company. They brought their own tankards and goblets and the Elves filled them, standing at one end of the table and waiting for everyone else to rise.

"I do not know the custom of these woodmen and it is not the habit of my people to drink and eat when parting with one of our own, but I have met men in the western lands who do this," Fëanor said. "Make no mistake, I do not forget that by my own hands the master of this house has lost his life. I assure you, food will be tasteless and drink will be sour for me, but we must eat. And we must honor the man as best as each of us can."

The Elf raised his goblet and lowered his head, keeping a brief moment of silence. Then he drank and a sigh passed through the company as they did the same. Up on one of the platforms, where he could see the others, Fili lay on a bunch of furs and his brother hovered nearby, a large plate on his knees. They drank as well and then watched Gandalf rising from his silent vigil by the fireplace.

"I have only met the master of this house twice in my travels in these parts. I did not know him as well as I would have wanted. Woodmen are not unlike your people, Thorin... secretive and closed off. But I can assure you, if the night had not brought with it such tragedy, Beorn would have welcomed us at his table. He would have put out his best food and his finest drinks and we would have seen his animals doing wondrous things. As it is, we must take for ourselves what he would have given freely and try to respect the man for the things he has left behind."

Heads lowered, they all focused on the food in front of them and they ate in heavy silence. Still, it was difficult to brood when the cheeses and the fresh vegetables and the honey pastries tasted so good that Bilbo felt life literally pouring back into his limbs. He had not eaten his full with a roof above his head since time out of mind and although his heart still ached, the Hobbit's stomach sang with gratitude.

When they were done, the Dwarves stepped out on the veranda and lit their pipes, staring thoughtfully into the dusk. Because Fili could not go with them and had no desire to smoke, his brother remained behind as well and Bilbo climbed to them, a goblet of wine in his hand.

"What is going to happen to this place now?" Kili gazed above them at the crisscrossing beams that held up the roof. "It's such a shame...Who's going to take care of it now? And all those poor animals...Who will feed them and look after them now that their master is dead?"

"We'll have to slaughter some of them, I think," Caranthir sat on the lowest step, looking up at them.

"We can't!" Bilbo gasped. "Did you not see them? They're not ordinary farm animals!" he shouted, horrified by the idea.

"They are not, but what choice do we have? We need provisions and honey-cakes will not do if we mean to cross the forest. Some of these animals might survive if we turn them loose, but I believe they will fall prey to wolves and foxes and whatever else is out there. If Gandalf says there is nobody nearby to take them in, we would be subjecting the animals to a more cruel fate if we left them behind. Some, I fear, might just lay themselves down to die."

"But we cannot kill them!" Bilbo insisted, hating the unmoved Elf before him with visceral intensity. Not only had they killed Beorn, but they also meant to plunder his home?!

"Don't worry, little Hobbit," Caranthir sat up and his eyes seemed to darken as he stared directly at Bilbo. "You won't have to get your hands bloody," he stalked off, pulling Curufin after him and disappearing through the front door.

"Gods, I hate him!" Bilbo ground out, uncaring that the Elf wasn't out of earshot and his siblings stopped whatever they were doing to look at him.

"He speaks like a heartless bastard, but I'm afraid he's right," Fili sighed and lowered himself on the pelts. "Damn this stupid leg, I wish you'd just cut it off so it stops hurting so much and I won't be so goddamned helpless!"

"Fili, no! Don't say that!" Kili hovered over his brother, squeezing his shoulder anxiously. "I'll go get Oin, there's got to be some more..."

"No. Just... bring me my pipe. I don't think anyone cares where I smoke or if it's any good for me."

"But..."

"Go!" Fili growled, making Bilbo jump and Fili scramble off in search of their packs.

The Hobbit said nothing, at a loss for words as Fili sagged on the furs, letting out a deep breath. The young Dwarf's brow creased and his fingers worked the pelt beneath them into tatters. Bilbo watched him helplessly and wondered if their string of misfortunes would ever come to an end.


	15. Chapter 15

15

The first night he spent in Beorn's halls passed slowly for Bilbo. He slept fitfully and woke every time someone around him stirred, staring into the dark corners and expecting something huge to pounce on their helpless forms. Something with claws and foaming jaws that roared for revenge. But the night passed and by the first light of day, the entire company had woken safe and sound, if not much happier and little more rested than the day before.

To their surprise, as they breakfasted, Gandalf announced he meant to leave.

"You said it yourself, Thorin Oakenshield, you cannot linger here for very long and yet you must. Fili will not be able to ride a pony until his leg is healed and if you push him, he may never heal properly."

Fili shifted uneasily at the wizards words and averted his eyes, his ears burning with shame and guilt for being such a liability.

"I will not do that!" Thorin snapped at the wizard.

"We will stay here as long as we must," Fëanor said. He gave his own son a glance and although Bilbo still held onto his bitterness against some of those Elves, he couldn't help but find it odd how nobody paid Celegorm's wounds much attention. Granted, the Elf had made himself scarce before dawn and his brothers had barely coaxed him to return from the stables and have a bite to eat, but still, he too was injured and would not be able to ride without a great deal of pain.

"I know someone who might help us," Gandalf told them. "Not far from here, a day's ride to the south on the swiftest horse, perhaps more... one of my order lives there. He keeps a house on the edge of the forest. His name is Radagast and he is the greatest potions master that ever walked these lands."

"Another wizard?" Kili perked up. "Can he heal Fili, you think?"

"If I find him at home, I believe so. Radagast is a great healer and he knows all the mending spells there are. But he is also a solitary creature and this part of the world is in his charge. He may be far from his dwelling. But even so, I will search for him. And if he is not there, perhaps I can find something in his house that will speed up the healing of our wounded."

"Would this reclusive wizard help us if you find him?" Thorin eyed Gandalf doubtfully. The Dwarf did little to conceal his mistrust after Gandalf had failed to warn them about Beorn, but if Gandalf was ill pleased about it, he showed no outward sign.

"He would. Radagast is a gentle and merciful soul. He will be very grieved when he learns what has come to pass with his neighbor, but perhaps he will also care for this house after we are gone. Radagast may take some of Beorn's animals under his protection and that is also a reason why I wish to seek him."

"But more importantly, this wizard may have important information about the path that lies ahead of us from here," Maedhros said. "If you say that he is the caretaker of Mirkwood, Gandalf, then he would know better than anyone what road is safest for us to take and what dangers await us in the forest."

"That is also my thinking," Gandalf nodded. "And I also have my business of my own with Radagast. I will take my leave now," he rose from the table. "Try to stay out of trouble while I am gone and please, think twice before you raise your weapons again," Gandalf swept his eyes over the hall and more than one person fidgeted under that look.

Bilbo saw Thorin leaning closer to Balin and whispering something in his ear, his eyes narrowed.

"Look for my coming on the third day from now," Gandalf wrapped a few seed-cakes in a piece of cloth and put them in his small pack.

"And if you do not return?" Thorin wanted to know.

"Then...," Gandalf paused and gave the Dwarf a stern look. "Then wait for me as long as you will, but do not follow. If I do not return, it will not be because I have abandoned you, Thorin Oakenshield, but because I am detained."

"We will seek for you," Maedhros told him.

"You will not. Listen to your father, he will know what to do. Fare well for now, all of you," the wizard took his staff and left the hall, many pairs of eyes staring after him.

Bilbo scrambled off his perch at the table and ran after Gandalf, catching up with him on his way to the stables. Although Bilbo harbored his own misgivings, Gandalf had always been there to guide them and they'd always had him to fall back on. If the wizard left them on the last and most important leg of their journey, Bilbo was certain they would rue it bitterly.

"Gandalf, wait! Please! You're not leaving us, are you? I mean, not really..."

"Bilbo Baggins, of course not! What is this nonsense? You of all people should know that I cannot leave this band of fools without anyone sensible to look after them. I will return," the wizard smiled kindly, although Bilbo could tell it was more than a little strained. "Take some rest and build back your strength, while there is still time for it."

Gandalf patted the Hobbit's shoulder and turned away with a sweep of his long robes. Bilbo watched him bring out a grey horse from the stables and jump on its back, dashing out the gate without a glance behind.

...

It did not take long for tension to mount among the members of the company, as they sat idle in the homestead. As one day passed and then the other, Bilbo could see both Dwarves and Elves beginning to shift restlessly and prowl the hedged enclosure like caged animals. Although they all refrained from grumbling too loudly and steered away from each other when the air between them sizzled with pent up frustration, it still made Bilbo uneasy and filled him with longing for his own, quiet little home. He found little solace in the company of his usual friends, as Fili grew more disgruntled with each passing hour and often sent both Bilbo and his brother away from his side. There was no more milk of the poppy for him and discomfort made the young Dwarf bristle even worse than Thorin, angry and impatient with his condition. And though they still tended to him regularly, the Elves made little conversation, Celegorm least of all. Fili asked to be taken out during the day as the weather remained fair and he would spend hours brooding in a chair, watching the Elves constantly tending to Beorn's animals for want of something better to do.

At dusk, Fëanor took his youngest sons and Kili to the man's fresh grave and Bilbo did not intrude upon their vigil, feeling that they did not want anyone else to share in the guilt that still weighed heavy on their shoulders. Then, they would all take a meal together, speaking inanities to fill the silence or in Dwalin's and Caranthir's and Curufin's case, sulking with mouths firmly shut beneath Thorin's and Fëanor's forbidding gazes. The Dwarves then smoked on the front and back porch and the Elves laid their bedrolls on the grass, refusing to share the hall with so many snoring nuisances, as per Caranthir's blunt observation.

Bilbo woke long before dawn on the third night and try as he might, he could not sit still anymore. The very air felt stifling around him, although the night was cool and a light summer rain had fallen the evening before. The Hobbit threw his blanket off and slipped out of the hall, tiptoeing around the sleeping Dwarves. Fresh air on his face made Bilbo's spirits rise somewhat. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and stepped into the courtyard, glancing left and right for any of the sleeping Elves, but there was none to be seen.

A walk would perhaps do him some good, Bilbo thought, and his soft footsteps carried him all the way to the gate. He did not wish to leave the safety of the homestead, merely to walk by the hedge, passing by the out-buildings without disturbing anyone. The grass beneath his feet felt comforting although it glistened with dew in the last starlight before dawn. Bilbo inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, all the familiar smells of earth and greens reminding him of home keenly. He held out his hand and brushed it against the hedge, walking slowly, and behind closed eyelids, he could almost pretend he was back in the Shire, strolling along his well known and beloved lanes in the peaceful morning hours.

But the sound of voices broke his reverie and Bilbo stopped, peering toward the house. He had unknowingly made it all the way to the back porch. The garden lay between him and the veranda and on it, the Hobbit saw two people as awake as he was. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough, but on the railing, a single candle gave enough light for Bilbo to make out Fëanor's face. The Elf sat in one of the large wooden chairs and framed by the open door, Thorin stood beside him, both of them staring into the night.

He should have just continued his walk, but Bilbo cold not help himself. He felt as though whatever came to pass between those two was of the utmost importance and Bilbo just had to know. As the days and weeks had gone by, Bilbo had kept warring with himself and wondering how to let Thorin know his Elven friends were not all they appeared to be. He'd meant to speak but the time never seemed right and courage always failed him and the Hobbit had kept his mouth shut. All the while, Fëanor and his sons had the Dwarves further and further in their debt, slipping past their reluctance and winning their trust with uncanny ease, save perhaps for some bastions of precaution, like Dwalin. But Thorin had fallen, Bilbo knew it and he needed to hear for himself what Fëanor would say to the Dwarf.

He crept closer through the garden, taking cover as best as he could and moving very slowly. But suddenly, Bilbo recalled his magic ring. It had all but slipped out of his mind, although he had found himself checking whether it still lay tucked safely in his pocket. But of course! He did not need to creep and crawl, he could just put the ring on and walk up to the veranda unseen.

The world dimmed and blurred and the smallest sounds suddenly became clear while Thorin's and Fëanor's voices came to Bilbo through a long and narrow funnel. It took the Hobbit a few moments to become adjusted and not stumble over something, but then, he walked very silently all the way to the foot of the wooden stairs, right under Thorin's unseeing eyes. Bilbo crouched on the first step and gave the sky a wary look, reassured to see that it was still dark and he was in no danger of casting a shadow yet. Careful to keep his breathing as silent and even as possible, the Hobbit looked up and saw Thorin rubbing his forehead.

"Can't sleep?" the Elf glanced at Thorin from the corner of his eye.

"Do you _ever_ sleep?" the Dwarf retorted.

"I've slept enough. For thousands of years, you might say."

"That's... I have no reply to that."

A small smile played on Fëanor's lips as he watched Thorin pulling a chair closer and sitting in it.

"I cannot sleep in this place, Thorin. No more than I can eat this food or even sit on this porch waiting for dawn. I killed that man."

For a few moments, Thorin said nothing, lighting his pipe and puffing on it.

"You can't take all the blame for that. You were defending your son," he sighed at last.

"But... if it was a man, aware and understanding, do you believe he would have actually killed Tyelkormo?"

"You heard what Gandalf said and you saw those animals. If you'd smell the blood of your child on someone, would you be able to stay your hand?"

"No," the Elf admitted, so faint that Bilbo barely heard him.

"Neither would I. And remember, there were arrows sticking out of the man's body. One of them belonged to my nephew. The bear could have just as easily attacked Fili and not your son. Don't think I would have hesitated," Thorin said.

"Still... I know it was an accident. The attack as well as the reason behind it. My reaction... Nobody meant for any of it to happen, yet it has and I can't just live under this man's roof and shake his death off like it means nothing."

"That is not what I am doing and last I saw, neither your sons nor my kinsmen have an easier time living with what happened," Thorin chided.

"They do not. But Thorin... All logic aside, I can't help thinking about how I seem to bring death with me everywhere I go. In this new life as well," Fëanor fetched a deep sigh and propped his elbows on his knees. He leaned forward, chin in his hands and Bilbo thought he could see him swallow painfully.

"That is not true. Think of all the times you have saved our lives. And... joining me on my journey meant you would have to kill from the very beginning. Surely you knew that."

"I did," the Elf lowered his eyes.

"Do you regret your stubbornness now?" Thorin asked and Bilbo flinched under the intensity of the Dwarf's gaze, before he remembered that Thorin could not see him.

Fëanor, however, caught that look and held it for a long moment.

"No. I do not regret coming with you and I never have, Thorin Oakenshield. It'll take more than an unfortunate accident to make me reconsider."

"Good," Thorin leaned back in his seat, letting out a long plume of smoke. Even in the dim light, Bilbo could see some tension seeping out of the Dwarf's face.

"You know... Brace yourself, my friend. You found me in a rare mood this morning. So you might be in for more than just small talk about guilt. I have a confession that I feel I must make."

Bilbo bit his lip hard and his grip on the wood tightened. For an insane moment he believed Fëanor would up and say it, that he'd reveal himself and let whatever happened next just happen. But of course, it was not so.

"I won't like this, will I?" Thorin smiled vaguely.

"You'll probably hate it and I am sorry, but I must tell you all the same. You might have gathered that this whole adventure has ceased to be an adventure for me a while ago."

"It is not an adventure for me either. And I resent it when the others treat it lightly by calling my life's mission that."

"Understandably. Rest assured that for my part, I know what this means to you," Fëanor nodded.

"But that is not what you wish to confess, is it?"

"In a way, it is. You see, I am no longer compelled to see your journey's end out of curiosity or because I want to pit myself against a dragon or any other foolish reason like that. It's become personal for me, Thorin, as I grew to know you better and to understand your hurts."

"So... you admit that you've at least _had_ foolish reasons to put yourself and your sons in danger?"

"Perhaps."

"I knew it!"

"But wait," Fëanor motioned Thorin too be still. "I am not finished. It may be just fancy on my part, but from the very beginning, _you_ have caught my interest. You've fascinated me and I've felt drawn to you. Why are you frowning like that?"

"Because... do you hear yourself?"

"What? Eru... no! What are you even thinking? Already jumping to the wrong conclusion with typical haste? I am trying to tell you something deep an meaningful here," Fëanor huffed.

"Go on," Thorin eyed him doubtfully.

"Alright. Alright. What I mean to say is that... though you may not be of the same opinion, I feel as though we are very much alike. Kindred spirits, if you will. I see a lot of myself in you and that is why I believe I have some understanding of you. And... I've come to care about you, Thorin. That is why I follow you on your quest and not debt or treasure or the like."

Thorin said nothing, but the pipe slipped from his lips and he stared ahead thoughtfully.

"Let me get this straight...," the Dwarf cleared his throat. "By that logic, what you are basically saying is that... you love yourself."

"What?" Fëanor frowned.

"_'I love you, you remind me of me.'_ Is that not what you said?"

"You have strange logic, Dwarf," Fëanor growled, his frown deepening.

"And you have strange feelings, Elf," Thorin said, with a pointed look.

"Very well, then..." Fëanor made to get up and leave, but Thorin sat up quicker and pushed him back down, hand on the Elf's shoulder.

"No, stay with me," Thorin said, his voice softer and deeper than before.

Fëanor agreed and lowered himself back in his seat. But Thorin stepped aside and rested his elbow on Fëanor's shoulder, leaning against the Elf to keep him in place. For a while, neither said a word and Thorin took another deep drag from his pipe.

"Don't expect me to say I love you back, because I don't," he said at last.

"Of course not, how could you possibly...?"

"Now who is jumping to the wrong conclusion, mm? I may not love you, but I certainly find you less aggravating than before," Thorin smirked in his beard.

"Hmm. That's... something, by Dwarvish standards. I think," Fëanor gave the Dwarf a sideways glance.

"It is."

"Alright. It's better than nothing. But, well... Could you at least not blow that foul smoke in my face?" Fëanor wrinkled his nose.

"I am sorry. But I thought you loved me. You know, flaws and all," Thorin's smirk broadened.

"Don't push it," Fëanor growled, but he too was smiling. "You have such harsh humor, Thorin Oakenshield. Lesser men would shrivel beneath it."

"But you are not a man."

"Lesser Elves, too. But you should know, I too have a heart under all this handsome," Fëanor pointed to himself. "Don't abuse my Elvish sensibilities."

"Ugh, I thought your son was the vain one," Thorin shook his head.

"Where do you think he got it from?" Fëanor replied with a lopsided grin.

"You're hopeless, the lot of you," Thorin groaned, putting some more of his weight onto the Elf's shoulder.

Companionable silence fell over them and Bilbo wondered if it was not time for him to slip away. He had intruded long enough. But in the stillness of the moment, the smallest misstep would give him away.

"Do you at least feel any less miserable?" Thorin asked when Fëanor fetched a deep sigh.

"Somewhat. Thank you for trying to cheer me up."

"That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

"Thank you for being my friend... however much that pains you," Fëanor looked up at Thorin with a teasing smile on his face.

The Dwarf chuckled and nudged his shoulder, then gave it a gentle squeeze. Fëanor closed his eyes and tilted his head, resting his cheek against the back of Thorin's hand. Thorin did not withdraw it and they sat like that for a few moments, with invisible Bilbo blinking at them owlishly.

"It will be morning soon," Fëanor said idly.

"Do you wish to retire?"

"Even if I did, I can't. We should get the fire going, the others will wake before long. And if he hasn't lied to us... again... the wizard should be back with help today. Might as well wait for him with some food on the table."

"I will help you," Thorin offered, stepping aside and letting the Elf sit up.

"You know, back in Valinor, in my house, I was the one in charge of cooking and all manner of household tasks. I was always on my feet before everyone else and got breakfast ready before the boys started thundering down the stairs," Fëanor said, stretching and muffling a yawn behind his palm.

"Really? And what did your wife do?"

"With seven sons to look after, what do you suppose she did?"

"Must have kept her legs crossed tight and hoped for the best," Thorin offered with a broad smirk.

Fëanor laughed and more or less shoved the Dwarf back into the hall, hurrying after him with some clever reply at the ready. They left Bilbo to gape after them and fetch a deep sigh once he believed them out of earshot.


	16. Chapter 16

16

True to his word, Gandalf returned before noon on July the twenty fifth, galloping into the courtyard in a cloud of dust. Dogs barked and clambered to greet him, but they passed the wizard and spun around a second horseman as he rode through the gate and pulled his horse to a halt.

From the top of the steps, Bilbo saw the newcomer was also an old man, like and yet unlike Gandalf. Maglor and Caranthir emerged from the stables and greeted the two wizards, bowing politely before the one they did not know and offering him an arm to dismount. He must have been Radagast, the friend Gandalf had set out to find.

"Ah, there you are," Gandalf waved to Bilbo and smiled. "Go ahead and pour two old men a drink," he said when Bilbo came running to meet him. "Gather the others," he urged Bilbo, brushing off whatever questions Bilbo might have had.

The Hobbit ran back to the house and alerted the few people already in there. With Nori and Oin, he scrambled to bring rolls of cheese from the pantry and Kili helped them carry out a little barrel of wine. From both the front and the back door, people began to pour in, curious about the newcomer and the news that Gandalf brought. Even Fili hopped off from his nest of furs, propping himself on two crutches and hobbling to the table.

But neither Gandalf nor Radagast came into the house right away, giving the Elves and Dwarves time to set the table and arrange themselves around it. The last to arrive was Dwalin and he told them that the wizards had gone to see Beorn's grave, that Radagast had demanded to be taken there first and foremost. An uncomfortable murmur rose around Bilbo and he too braced himself, knowing that he would have to hear the unhappy tale again and wondering what the other wizard would do. Gandalf had grieved but continued to stand by them. Radagast, being in closer friendship with the dead man, probably had both the cause and the means to turn them all into something unnatural.

At last, the front door opened and let in the two wizards, Gandalf at the fore and the other behind. They hung their cloaks and hats on pegs near the door, setting their staffs aside and Bilbo bit his lip against a relieved smile. Perhaps Radagast meant them no harm after all. He studied the wizard closely - as did everyone else at the table - and saw in him the same ageless quality that always seemed to shine beneath the tattered attire of old Gandalf. But, where Gandalf was tall and thin as a pine, weathered but straight and long-limbed, Radagast was shorter, stockier, wider around the middle, reminding Bilbo of a chestnut in the first autumn days. The wizard wore long robes of green and brown and the cloak he had shed was also the color of russet leaves. His hair and beard were longer than Gandalf's and thicker, earth-colored and flecked with white strands, but by that alone one could not have called Radagast younger. Their eyes however, were the same, of unfathomable blue or unreadable grey. But when Radagast had his first proper look at Bilbo, his stern countenance gave way to a big, curious smile.

"A Hobbit here? So far from the green little Shire? Gandalf has told me all about you, but to see a Hobbit after so many years... it's quite extraordinary!"

Bilbo stole an awkward glance at Gandalf and hopped off his seat, wondering what the proper thing to say to a wizard would be. He bowed a little and smiled politely, giving his full name and conveying his pleasure at their meeting.

"Gandalf, you were right. A very polite and pleasant little fellow. I am happy to meet you as well, Bilbo Baggins," the wizard tilted his head and then turned his attention to the others. Gandalf introduced him to Thorin and Balin, letting them present the rest of the company.

The Elves said nothing and Radagast merely acknowledged them with a brief nod. Bilbo's eyes widened as it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the wizard knew who they were and had no reason to help them keep up their false appearance. But Maglor cleared his throat and when Bilbo's eyes turned to him, the Elf shook his head slowly, guessing his thoughts all too clearly.

_Of course not_, Bilbo's jaw clenched on the bitter exclamation. Those immortal bastards seemed to be all one and the same. For his own sake, he should have stopped being surprised long ago.

Gandalf let Radagast have his seat at the head of the table and Bofur set two goblets before them. Without further small-talk, the wizards turned to their food and the others had little choice but to follow their lead. Little was said, save in hushed whispers and restlessness hung heavy in the air. But neither wizard paid it any mind until their plates were cleaned and their goblets needed refilling.

"Thank you," Radagast said, leaning back in his seat and finally raising his eyes toward the group that faced him with various degrees of impatience on their faces. "I must say that Gandalf's unexpected visit has come as a surprise, but not as much as a gathering such as I am looking upon now. He has mentioned all of you and your plight, but still, you make a very unlikely group of travelers."

Nobody answered, but only because those who would have answered were forcibly held back from doing so.

"I am quite a solitary person and so many of you before me make for a very unusual event. However, I see in your faces that you have no wish to entertain an old man's curiosity. And it is a very unhappy circumstance that brings you all here."

Again, not a word was spoken in reply and most eyes turned to their leaders, wondering who would speak on their behalf, Thorin or Fëanor.

"Gandalf has brought to me the news of Beorn's death and the unfortunate string of events that lead to it. I will say to you no more than this... He was a good man and a worthy friend. These lands will feel his passing and be less safer for it. Wild though he was and keeping to his own affairs, Beorn always answered my calls for aid and helped me keep the crossings of the Anduin safe for travelers such as yourselves. Now that he is no more, the wilderness will have one less refuge and one less barrier to stave off the darkness. But what is done cannot be undone, however regrettable and however much we would wish to undo it."

Thorin sighed and lowered his head, clearly unhappy with another lecture on the matter. But he held his tongue and waited for the wizard to say everything had come to tell them.

"I understand that you are on a pressing journey and there are wounded among you. Gandalf has asked for my skill in healing you and for the sake of our old friendship I have come," Radagast sat up and walked back to the door, returning with a beaten-down leather pack. He set it on the table before him, but the wizard remained standing and leaned against the table, his eyes skipping from one of his companions to the other. "But I do have a price for my aid," he added.

A rumor passed over the table and they all shifted uneasily. Bilbo saw Thorin's expression darken and the Dwarf pushed his seat back, glaring at the wizard.

"I might have known. What conjurer have you brought in our midst, wizard?" he ground out, glaring at Gandalf. "I have no treasure to give you. Your _friend_ should have spared you the journey if that is what you have come for," he ground out to Radagast.

"Peace, Thorin," Gandalf tried to placate the angry Dwarf.

"Indeed," Radagast's eyes shifted from Thorin to Dwalin's even darker countenance and it seemed to Bilbo that a small smile played on his lips for a moment. But even the powerful wizard must have known the folly of giving a Dwarf warrior such a condescending look. "I do not seek any treasure from any of you and I rue the folly that drove Gandalf to lead you in these parts."

"Then what is it that you wish for?" Fëanor asked, just as displeased as Thorin, if a fraction calmer. "What is this price you speak of?"

"I will require your aid for something and I ask you only to take the place of my dead friend in performing this task. Gandalf has lead me to believe that some of you would be willing to do as I request," Radagast eyed Fëanor intently.

The Elf shifted his gaze from one wizard to the other, trying to ascertain what they meant. After a moment his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head, a cold smile tugging his lips.

"You mean myself, wizard? Go on, tell me what Gandalf has set me up for."

"Curufinwë, I have not set you up for anything."

"Let our guest, speak," the Elf demanded.

"I am not your guest and this is not your house! If you want me to forgive the murder of my friend and the slaughter of his animals that you plan to supply yourselves for the road, you will do as I say. If you want me to heal your son," the wizard's voice rose as he glared at Fëanor, and with it, he also seemed to grow larger. "And your nephew," his darkening eyes turned to Thorin, "Then you will do this!"

"And what is _this_?" Curufin advanced toward the brown wizard slowly, arms crossed over his chest and showing no fear of him.

"I ask only for the protection of my lands and the forest," Radagast stared him down, unimpressed. "Even you must know that Mirkwood bears this ominous name for a reason. But the forest has grown darker and more dangerous than ever before. You purpose to cross it, but none of the roads are safe anymore and the closer you get to the southern borders, the more perilous the journey becomes. Even the Old Forest Road is now infested with creatures none of you would wish to come across. But I have seen them and I know where they come from."

"Dol Guldur," Fëanor said, his smile vanishing as he understood what the wizard purposed. "Dol Guldur and the fortress of the Necromancer."

The Dwarves shifted and looked at each other uneasily. All of them had heard of that evil, but only then it seemed to dawn upon them just how close to the Necromancer's lair they had come.

"My birds have told me that the dark power of Dol Guldur has spread all through the Greenwood, infesting it with great spiders and other foul creatures. The waters are poisoned, the plants sucked dry or corrupted and the trees rot from within wherever this evil grows. We have let it fester there for too long and done nothing, Gandalf. It is time to drive it out. But I will need your help to do this."

"Now we come to it," Fëanor whispered, more to himself than to anyone in particular. "I see."

"Well, I don't, damnit!" Thorin laid his hands flat on the table with a startling bang. "What is the meaning of all this?"

"In Rivendell, Thorin, you may have heard talk of this Necromancer and how not even the wise of this world know what he is or where he comes from," Fëanor said.

"We know Dol Guldur is an evil place, it has been the same in the days of our exile and wandering south from Erebor. But what does that have to do with us now? What can we do against this Necromancer?"

"You, Master Dwarf, will do nothing," Celegorm rose stiffly and answered in his father's place. "You need not do anything else but go on with your mission as planned. It is us that the wizards want. I see it too, now, father."

"Yes, the reason why Gandalf has brought us along on your quest from the very beginning. How very clever," Maedhros also left his seat and walked to his father's side.

Bilbo gaped at the odd smiles on their faces and their narrowed eyes, watching the seven sons instinctively drawing closer to their father.

"You should have told us from the very beginning, Olórin," Fëanor said. "It would have saved you the trouble of all this charade."

Gandalf said nothing, but his eyes glinted colder and harder than steel as he stared the Elf down, daring him to say anything else. And even though Bilbo realized he was caught in something bigger than he could comprehend, he knew enough to sense the undercurrents of the power struggle they were witnessing. And as Fëanor backed down, the Hobbit could not help a brief moment of satisfaction. The great liars themselves had been outsmarted by one greater than themselves.

"Very well, then. You will heal our wounded and resupply our potions master with everything he needs for the road. You will let us be until we have made all necessary preparations to depart and then, my sons and I will come to you." Fëanor told Radagast.

Both wizards nodded, their faces still stern and their eyes sharper than blades.

"Wait just a damned moment!" Thorin finally snapped. He pushed past Amrod and Caranthir and grabbed Fëanor's arm, shaking him angrily. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

When Fëanor only sighed in response, Thorin spun on his heels and pulled the surprised Elf after him.

"OUT! NOW!" the Dwarf growled. "You come with me right now and explain all this madness or in Mahal's name, I swear I will beat it out of you!"

Under the noses of gaping Dwarves and the awkward smiles of his sons, Fëanor was dragged across the hall and shoved onto the front porch. Thorin stormed after him and kicked the door shut, but even the loud bang could not conceal his thunderous voice rising.


	17. Chapter 17

17

Stunned silence had fallen over the hall when Thorin had dragged Fëanor outside and lasted as long as the two were within earshot. But as their voices grew fainter, the others snapped out of their daze and began talking all at once. Balin and Dwalin and Gloin crowded around the two wizards, demanding explanations of their own, although the older Dwarf seemed to be more concerned with keeping the others' tempers in check. Fili sat miserably at the table, muttering about how he needed no healing and nobody should allow himself to be blackmailed on his account. Kili tried to calm him, but he'd been losing that battle for days and could do little but stand by his brother in silent support. Fëanor's sons held hushed conference in their own tongue, segregated in a corner of the hall.

Bilbo stared unhappily into his cup, wondering what new evils awaited them. Where would he be swept off to next and into what new dangers? So far from home and without any means to turn back, there wasn't any choice but to wait while others decided his fate. He bemoaned his helplessness, frustrated with how he didn't have a say in it at all. He could shout and protest, of course, but who would listen to the little straggler, if his voice made it through the din to begin with?

"Take heart, lad. We'll be alright as long as we stick together," Bofur patted his arm. ''Look how far we've made it and... it was never going to be just a stroll through the wilderness," the Dwarf smiled encouragingly.

"I don't think Thorin's gonna let those meddlesome wizards drag us into any absurd fight with that Necromancer. It's none of our business," Gloin said.

"I don't suppose they can force us along, can they?" Bilbo eyed Radagast and Gandalf apprehensively.

"I'd like to see them try," Gloin grumbled, sticking his hands into his belt and puffing himself up. "Nobody forces a Dwarf and I don't care what magic tricks those two have up their sleeves. This is one Dwarf they won't intimidate so easily."

"Look, mum and dad are back," Bofur pointed to the door with a lopsided grin. "Guess we'll know soon enough what their Majesties have decided for us. But I don't care much for the look on their faces."

Even Bofur's attempts at humor felt forced and nobody smiled, their eyes drawn to Thorin and Fëanor. When they returned to the hall and shut the door behind them, all conversation ceased and the Dwarves sat back at the table, watching their king expectantly. Fëanor walked to his sons and Bilbo saw him nodding wordlessly when he met Maedhros' inquiring look. The younger Elf sighed and lowered his head and when the two turned to their kinsmen, resignation could easily be read on their faces.

But Bilbo's eyes, along with everyone else's were drawn to Thorin, when the Dwarf began to speak.

"I care not for plots and schemes and underhanded ploys such as I see now that we have become tangled in. I will not be manipulated and used as a tool to serve anyone's purpose, be it good or ill," Thorin declared, his voice resounding through the hall.

"Thorin Oakenshield, it is a shame that you have come to such a conclusion. I have never plotted or manipulated you in any way," Gandalf shook his head.

"According to your own moral standards, perhaps. All the same, now that I have a better understanding of your purposes, I will say this to you, Gandalf. We are grateful and in your debt for the help and the counsel you have provided to our fellowship. But I will not risk my life or the lives of my company in payment of this debt. We will not be used as shield or spear against the Necromancer. If the price for healing our wounds and letting us walk away from here in peace is so high, then we will manage on our own and carve a path for ourselves out if there is no other choice."

"Thorin, I thought we agreed...," Fëanor hurried over to the Dwarf's side, alarmed at how belligerent Thorin's speech had become.

"NO! _You_ agreed! I did not and will not!" Thorin growled. "But I do not pretend I can command you or your sons. It seems I cannot even sway you to wisdom in this matter. You do what you will, you are not bound to me by any promise."

The Elf sighed and shook his head sadly, but kept his mouth shut. He lowered himself on the closest empty seat and waited for Thorin to finish speaking.

"In part, you will get your wish, wizards," the Dwarf turned his thunderous gaze on Gandalf and Radagast. "For reasons of his own that Curufinwë only hints to, he will do you bidding. He believes he is somehow bound to aid the powers of this world, or so he says. I can only hope that foolish heroics will not cost us the unlikely friendship we've begun to build," Thorin's expression softened for a moment, as he glanced at the Elf. "But for my part, I will continue my journey with our without the aid of Elves and Wizards. I believe my kinsmen stand beside me in this."

For a few tense moments, none of the Dwarves said anything. They looked at one another, trying to weigh the consequences of their leader's choice. Bilbo saw both Fili and Kili quietly brimming with pride, eyes glued to their uncle and, above their heads, the Hobbit could also see Maedhros smiling enigmatically. But Bilbo cared not one bit for power struggles and matters of pride so long as his own fate hung in the balance and he wondered if Thorin's decision included him or not.

Unsurprisingly, none of the Dwarves questioned their leader. One by one, they nodded and voiced their approval, some grumbling against the underhanded manner they were being treated. Perhaps, if the call for aid had come in a different fashion, the Dwarves would have not brushed off the rising evil as none of their business, but even Bilbo could tell that the wizards had chosen poorly when making their approach in such fashion. Thorin Oakenshield would never be threatened into anything, but perhaps it did not make any difference. It seemed that the wizards had business with the House of Fëanor and in that respect, they were not wrong at all. Those Elves _did_ have many things to answer for and much to repay the world, the constant pretense they kept in the company at the fore. And it made sense to have them pay a price to those who upheld their lies.

"I am grieved that it has come to this," Gandalf finally answered. "It was never my meaning to be thought so poorly of and to have my intentions questioned in such manner. Believe what you will, Thorin Oakenshield, but I have only even meant well, both for yourself and everyone else in this company."

"Perhaps. You, at least, have done us no harm," Thorin said, his tone somewhat more sedate. "Again, I thank you for your contribution thus far, but I must also ask that you cease to meddle in our affairs hence forth."

"Thorin...," Balin shifted closer and tried to caution his friend, but Thorin waved the attempt off.

"No, Balin, it's quite enough. We have had far too many interventions and far too many good-willing people prying into our business. We've come to a point where it seems our paths must part and each shall seek his own fortunes as best as he may. At the risk of sounding like an ingrate, I will insist that that you let us be," Thorin said, eyes trained on both wizards.

"Let the Dwarf have his way," Radagast answered impatiently. "I care not for his little band stomping through the woods. They say the Necromancer is none of their business, but they will soon find it not quite so easy to make it out of the woods. I would hear them then."

Dwalin growled angrily and Thorin gave the brown wizard a menacing look. To Bilbo's alarm, it seemed that conflict did not just brew but threatened to explode. Tempers flared all around him and even Fili snapped, unmindful of his injured leg.

"That is quite enough," they heard Fëanor saying. He still sat and seemed far more composed than the agitated Dwarves around him. "We should stop here, before more words are spoken that cannot be taken back. Calm yourselves, all of you. We can do better than spout insults at one another. May I say now what we agreed to say before tempers get further out of hand?" he gave Thorin a questioning look.

With a shake of his head and an ill-pleased look, Thorin backed down.

"Crying betrayal and thinking ourselves used does nothing but waste our time. Right now, things are what they are and we are in a situation that we must move on from. For my part, I would have gone with you Gandalf, if you had asked for our help from the very beginning. I understand that it is no small matter and the danger may be greater than even you and Radagast guess. But we will face it with you and we will drive this Necromancer out of his lair. There is no need for anyone to cry foul about this matter any longer. It is decided. All I wish is to join my plea to Thorin's words and ask that you do not hinder him in any way."

"They shall not be hindered," Gandalf replied gruffly.

"Fili's leg will be mended if you have the skill to do so," Fëanor gave the young Dwarf a sharp look, urging him to be still. "What's more, you must leave us to take counsel and ready ourselves for the journey. Leave us _alone_," the Elf said pointedly. "Return to your dwelling, Radagast and take Beorn's hounds with you. In a few days, we will all travel south and pass by your home on our way to the Men-i-Naugrim. That is the road that Thorin has decided to follow. Ambarussa and Tyelkormo will go with him while the rest of us are at your command."

"Father!" one of the twins protested.

"Not one word, Pityafinwë. It is not open for debate. You and your brothers are the best huntsmen and trackers, you will make sure that the company moves through Mirkwood as safely as possible. Thorin here has deigned it acceptable that our interference in his business may continue and so it shall. I am counting on you to keep yourselves and everyone else safe until I find you again. Make no mistake, we will find you. We shall have the fastest of Beorn's horses and ride south as swiftly as they can carry us. We shall dispatch this Necromancer and hurry after you, whether on the same road or on the other side of the forest, I do not know. Whatever seems swiftest and safest when we get there."

"You make it sound so simple," Celegorm grumbled.

"At this point, it does us no good to speculate and lose ourselves in endless debate over what may or may not happen. A lot can go wrong and we may find ourselves in unexpected circumstances, but this much I can tell you without a doubt: we will not let this business detain us more than has to and we will find you before the due date."

"And we will travel at such speed that will allow you to rejoin us before we've reached the Lonely Mountain," Thorin said. "There is still some time, July has not yet ended and once we are across this threatening forest, we will pace ourselves. We will stop in Esgaroth and make no decisive move until we have gathered all the news that can be found. At the latest, you will find us there."

"Well then, this is the best solution we have found for our current predicament," the Elf concluded.

"This is the best solution _you_ have come up with, I still don't condone it, but there's no arguing with you, is there?" Thorin grumbled.

"You learn quickly, Thorin Oakenshield," Fëanor smirked. "I will find you before long. And if not, you can hang my boys by their toes until I do."

"Really, father? _Really?!_" Celegorm groaned. "I expect _you_ to not let anything go amiss," the blond turned to his eldest brother and they exchanged a meaningful look.

Bilbo, however, still did not have the faintest clue what his part in the whole mess would be. They'd all forgotten him and he squirmed anxiously. Gandalf had been the one to insist on his participation and if Thorin dismissed the wizard so lightly, what would he do with the Hobbit? Likely toss him aside like so much useless luggage. On the other hand, being thrown on the back of a horse and carried to the Necromancer's lair was not a brighter perspective and Bilbo began to wring his hands in despair. What would become of him?

"Do not worry so, Bilbo Baggins," Maedhros was suddenly behind him and patted his shoulder gently. "We have not forgotten you. I cannot take you with me where I am going, but I shall entrust you into the keeping of my little brothers. They will have to answer to me about your safety when we meet again," the Elf smiled and all misgivings aside, Bilbo wanted to hug him.

But the Elves were already heading for the front door, the discussion having ended for their part.

"If we are all in agreement - grudgingly or otherwise," Fëanor eyed Thorin meaningfully, "I suggest we should get to work. There is a lot to be done. And _you_ will not be doing any of that work," the Elf put a hand on Celegorm's chest, pushing him back gently. "You must let the wizard tend to your wounds and try to calm our angry little lion," he looked past his son and met Fili's disgruntled look with a big smile. "He'll not take any healing easily now, unless you charm him into it."


	18. Chapter 18

18

"Careful now, you heard what the wizard said. Don't put too much weight on the leg all at once," Celegorm hovered around Fili, ready to prop him or catch him in case the young Dwarf lost his balance.

"Oh, curse that old coot, I can walk!" Fili tossed his crutch aside and planted himself firmly on both feet, giving his brother a proud look. "See?"

Kili nodded, but his eyes did not leave Fili's injured leg. Or _formerly_ _injured_, because where Fili's leg had been a battered, hastily stitched up mess, there remained only a pink scar along the Dwarf's calf, partly masked by coarse, tawny hair.

Barefoot and shirtless, wearing a new pair of breeches that he'd rolled up to his knees, Fili took a few tentative steps through the grass, batting Celegorm's hand away when the Elf hovered even closer.

"It doesn't hurt at all! Seriously, how am I supposed to get my strength back if you don't let me walk?"

"Isn't that why we've come to swim in this gods forsaken heat?" the Elf gestured toward the pond before them. "To help get some life back into your leg without exerting yourself too much?"

By the pond in question, Bilbo sat under the shade of an old willow, chewing on a blade of grass and watching the scene before him with a smile. In truth, they hadn't dropped everything in favor of swimming merely for Fili's sake. Fëanor had approached the brothers and whispered to them that they must take Celegorm far away from the homestead and keep him occupied until sundown. They'd understood why without further explanation and talked the Elf in question into joining them. Nobody could tell if Celegorm would react as badly to Beorn's animals being slaughtered as he had to their grief days before, and his father would not risk it. And so, Bilbo had been piled with food and drink and instructions to watch over the three troublemakers. He owed a great deal of gratitude to whoever had spared him as well, as Beorn's house was the last place he wanted to be in that day.

"Sure, sure," Fili nodded absently, heading toward the sandy shore with growing confidence. "It's amazing how much it doesn't hurt anymore," he grinned to himself. "You coming?" he glanced back at his brother.

Kili threw his shirt off and ran to the pond, yelping softly when his bare feet sank into the water.

"It feels great," he turned to Fili and held his hand out. "Come on, tread carefully."

"I know, I know," Fili rolled his eyes, but took his brother's hand and they waded through the water together, laughing breathlessly as they went deeper.

The Hobbit smiled after them, more relieved than he could say to have the old Fili back. Once Radagast had performed his magic, even the reluctant young Dwarf had to thank him and admit that the wizard's art had done him an immense favor. And ever since he realized he could stand on his own too feet, Fili's smile had never left his lips.

Kili threw himself into the water head first, with a splash that drew Bilbo out of his happy reverie.

"Mister Baggins!" he yelled, surfacing in the middle of the pond, the dark hair stuck to his face framing a huge grin. "This is amazing! You should come on in! Or did you not tell the truth and you can't really swim?"

"I can swim just fine, I assure you!" Bilbo called out. And he did not lie, but there was no rush. Better let those two and the Elf see how deep the pond was first.

"We won't let you drown!" Fili promised. He too sank beneath the surface and swam to his brother, making Kili yelp when he popped up behind him and splashed water into his face.

"Don't worry, I don't have any chest hair either," Celegorm grinned, tossing off his own shirt and kicking off the soft boots he and his kinsmen wore. "Nothing to be embarrassed about there, no matter what those two fiends will say."

The Elf walked past Bilbo and parted the reeds before him, searching for a higher place on the bank. Bilbo saw the fading claw-marks on his back where Celegorm's hair did not obscure them and remembered what the Elf had said about his old battle scars. It hadn't taken him too long to acquire new ones, it seemed.

"How deep is it?" Celegorm called out to the brothers.

"I don't know! Deep enough, I guess. Goes way over my head," Kili answered. He swam on his back, his legs treading the water idly. "Why?"

Celegorm said nothing, but he dove into the water as smoothly as an arrow, hands held out before him and causing only a ripple as he went.

"Damned show off!" Kili yelled, scanning the water around them, probably afraid that the Elf would pop out under him.

But Celegorm surfaced somewhere behind the brothers, closer to the other end of the pond. He waved and called out to them, laughing as Kili sputtered and swam to him. Fili started after him but then he turned through the water and glided back to Bilbo.

"It's not deeper than this over here," he stood and pointed to his chest, giving Bilbo a little smile. "I'll make sure you don't drown."

"Oh? That's very kind of you," Bilbo said. He stepped into the water slowly, face pulled into a false little grimace and he felt the sandy bottom carefully. "But you'll have to catch me first!" he grinned at the Dwarf, throwing himself into the cool water and swimming away as fast as he could. Bilbo heard Fili shouting and laughing behind him, splashing on the chase.

They shouted and laughed and chased each other all over the pond, drawing Kili and Celegorm into the game, although the Elf did not play fair and was always at an advantage. But he swam around them or under them and would grab them at unawares, making the young Dwarves curse him colorfully.

"I think I saw a fish as big as Bilbo over here," Celegorm said, splashing idly toward the Hobbit.

"Impossible, there can't be fish that big in a pond so small," Bilbo instinctively tucked his legs under him, fighting the urge to hurry back to the shore.

"No, but it was worth a shot just for the look on your face," the Elf laughed.

"Mean!" Bilbo sputtered, launching himself at Celegorm, but of course the slippery Elf got away.

"Come now, I did see some nice fish in here, but they're all tucked away, cowering in fear of the racket we're making."

"Of course they are, what, with a big white eel like yourself scaring them all off!" Fili grinned at the Elf.

"So said the otter," Celegorm shot back.

"Who're you calling an otter?" Kili bristled.

"Not you, little beaver," Celegorm turned on his back and tread the water slowly away from them.

Bilbo laughed at the sputtering brothers as they started after the Elf, but soon joined them when Celegorm called him a chuckling weasel. They could not catch him, of course, but they could still chase him to shore and loom over him with completely unthreatening grins as Celegorm lay back on the grass and laughed. At a loss for ways to avenge themselves, Bilbo and the Dwarves resigned themselves to falling on the grass as well, laying in the sun and trading imaginative barbs with the Elf. But after a while, they grew quiet and sighed contentedly.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" Celegorm propped himself on one elbow and squinted at the Dwarf closest to him.

"No... not yet," Fili yawned. He stretched and ran a hand through his tangled mop of hair, chuckling when his fingers got stuck. "But it's not a very bright idea to sleep in the sun."

"Why? Are you afraid you'll get burned under all that fuzz?"

"Er... no. But you might," Fili gave Celegorm's distinctly unfuzzy skin a pointed look.

"I don't tan. Well, not so easily anyway. And it's nice to soak up the sun sometimes. I'd do it properly," Celegorm tugged on the hem of his wet breeches. "But I do have a modicum of decency and I worry for your innocence, really," he smirked.

"Pfff," Fili threw his arm over his eyes. "Go ahead. I'm not looking."

"Then what would be the point in stripping?"

"Aaaargh!" Fili rolled on his stomach, hair falling into his face. "You are completely shameless!"

"Always have been," Celegorm snickered, lying back with his arms folded beneath his head. "I think it runs in our blood."

"What, shamelessness?" Kili grumbled from the Elf's other side.

"Daring, rather. Pride in what we are and what we've got. Absolute confidence," Celegorm said, his tone underlying his words.

"Your father certainly exhibits that," Bilbo said. "Absolute confidence, I mean. He seems very, very certain that he and your brothers will make quick work of that Necromancer and get back to us before we know it."

Celegorm raised his head and squinted at the Hobbit, shading his eyes with one palm.

"I will be the first to admit that this is one of my father's stupidest ideas. Just... not to his face. And I suggest you keep this between us. He's probably had enough of being called names by your beloved King," the Elf smirked, trying to see Fili through the mop of hair still hanging in the Dwarf's face.

"You don't think they should go with the wizards?"

"To Mandos with the wizards! But it doesn't work like that, I'm afraid. So here we are. And I wish I could go with them. Although I can't see what difference one more Elf would make. Between them, two Istari and five Eldar should dispatch that... whatever it is with little trouble. I'm just worried that father will try something heroic and utterly foolish. Ah, well, at least he has Nelyo to rein him in," Celegorm sighed.

"You're... very protective of him," Bilbo observed, catching the Elf's eye again and Celegorm smiled, probably knowing that Bilbo of all people understood said protectiveness fully.

"Of course I am. I would hate it if we lost him again. And he's not supposed to be fighting someone else's wars in this new life. Beg your pardon, my friends, I did not mean yours and Thorin's quest, of course. But I had hoped we could spend more time exploring the lands and just..._ living,_ before the fighting begins again. If something happens to father... or to any of my brothers, I think I'll rip the world to shreds out of sheer spite."

"Shh, calm yourself," Fili inched closer to Celegorm and patted his arm. "Nothing bad will happen. And... listen. If you wish to go with them, we'll try to fend for ourselves without you for a while. We _have_ done it before, you know," his lips quirked in a small smile.

"Hahaha, I know. But part of me wants to stay with you all the same. I told you I am fond of you, little lion cub," Celegorm poked Fili's shoulder gently. "I would never forgive myself if you got eaten by spiders or dragons or whatnot. Such a tough decision. What is an Elf to do?" he fell back into the grass, closing his eyes.

"Defend your little lion cub, what else?" Kili grumbled, but Bilbo caught him smirking as he watched over his brother and the Elf. "Your father said so, after all."

"I must listen to my father, then. Eru knows, I rarely do anyway," Celegorm mused.

Bilbo saw Fili closing one eye and lowering his head toward the Elf's shoulder, probably meaning to do something very catty. But he caught himself in time and snickered, scratching somewhere inside his shaggy mane. He flopped back down on the grass, stretching his limbs and yawning widely.

Bilbo found that catty enough to amuse him greatly. He sighed contentedly and rested among his friends, trying not to wonder how long before a carefree day like that would come their way again.

* * *

**A/N: And thus, "Always trust an Elf" concludes on a lighter note than even I thought it would. But I figured it would be acceptable to leave our heroes as such and give them a little reprieve before the adventures they will embark on in the immediate future.  
**

**What happens next? Will _"mom and dad"_ ever see each other again, once they are parted? Will the little cubs survive their adoptive lion's attentions? What about the dragon and the Silmaril? All that and much more will be answered in "Heart of the Mountain", the third and final installment of this tale.**

**I wish to thank you all for reading and reviewing, for following the story and adding it to your favorites list. I don't think I would have gotten so far, so fast with the writing if not for all the wonderful encouragement I've received.  
**

**Special thanks go to my fellow Fëanorian lover androidilenya, for the constant appreciation and for making me wish to write more and update sooner. Your reviews always put the biggest smile on my face.  
**

**Also, thank you kindly, eichenschild, for ... well, for everything. :D  
**


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